


Tattoos are like love

by Ardentwench (Kitschdemotic)



Category: South Park
Genre: Anxiety, College Jitters, Lack of Communication, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Pining, Senior year, Tattoos, highschool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-06 03:19:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5401046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitschdemotic/pseuds/Ardentwench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tattoos are like love (...beautiful and sometimes painful)</p><p>With college jitters, dread over what the future holds, and unrequited love eating him up, getting the tattoo seemed like a good idea to Tweek. A way to keep a piece of Craig to rely on for comfort when they're miles apart, when they don't see each other as much, when Craig inevitably stops wanting to be his friend and moves on with his life.</p><p>He didn't expect for it to lead to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [Kitschdemotic](http://kitschdemotic.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> This story is Creek, I try to leave any other friendships/relationships up to interpretation.  
> Shout out to [letgoofmygreggo](http://letgoofmygreggo.tumblr.com/) for helping Beta this work.
> 
> Each chapter will get a bit longer.

Chapter 1

 

 

Clear plastic peeks out from the sleeve of Craig's left arm. It catches Tweek's attention, leading him to see the black lines the plastic is obscuring. His first reaction to seeing them is to reach out and touch them, he barely refrains, his hands going to his hair instead.

“What? Craig!? Is that a tattoo!?” He wants to cringe when his voice cracks into a shriek but he can only stare in bewilderment.

He gives a short tug on the hair under his palms, making an effort to try and silence the involuntary noises rising in his throat. Craig turns to look at him, one arm still outstretched for the game controller Clyde had offered him. He glances between Tweek and his exposed wrist where his jacket sleeve had pulled back. He looks nonplussed but when he speaks his words hold a guilty edge, “Uh. Yes.”

“Why!?” The word slips out loud and frenzied before Tweek can help it.

He knows he’s allowed to be curious, and even rightfully concerned for his friends health, but he doesn't want to come across as a nag and what if that’s why Craig didn't tell him he got a tattoo? Or worse, what if Craig had got the ink a long while back and Tweek is only now noticing, what an awful friend he’d be. Maybe Craig sounded guilty because they all got friendship tattoos without him? Did even Jimmy get one? He flicks his gaze between everyone in the room, looking for evidence.

Clyde is looking between them like they’re the stars in one of his Soaps while Jimmy is talking on his phone by the window. Token is typing away at something on his laptop, ignoring them.

“Early graduation gift to myself?” Craig answers and his bottom lip drops out into a pout for the second it takes him to shrug, “I mean, I didn't actually pay for it, Red offered to do it for free if I’d be one of her first human canvases.”

Tweek lets out a breath through his teeth, it comes out with a whistle to it.

New worries about sanitary conditions and health code violations come to mind and he sucks his bottom lip in to chew on it. Red was Craig's cousin so she probably wouldn't risk his life with dirty equipment and professional malpractice. Right? At least not on purpose, but what if she had forgot to change the needle and now Craig has Hepatitis C and will never find someone who will love him and be with him regardless? **  
 ******

Fingers tap against his mouth startling him out of the distraught chain of thought and he releases his lip from between his teeth after Craig gives them one more pointed tap.

As if an afterthought Craig chooses to elaborate, “I like space.”

Tweek grunts as if pained and rolls his eyes, gripping his hair tightly once more before dropping his hands into his lap and staring back at Craig with an unimpressed look that clearly expresses that the detail was not appreciated nor warranted because who didn't know Craig had a boner for space?

He makes a conscious effort to sound less like a nag when he speaks back up, “But, agh! What if it had become infected?” It’s not that he’s entirely against the idea of getting a tattoo in general, he just thinks it should be a bigger deal than a ‘Why not?’ decision under questionable circumstances because in some cases beggars _should be_ choosers and not just accept anything at all if it’s free.

His brain is tripping through his concerns and jumping to illogical and fearsome scenarios faster than he can even communicate them and he really wishes he had a fresh coffee in his hands. He suddenly gasps, “You could of died!”

The statement is reaching, an overreaction, he knows and his face starts to burn with the shame of making the simple ink work such a big deal. Tweek ignores how Clyde lifts an eyebrow at him in favor of eyeing the dark lines beneath the stretch of thin wrap.

Craig must notice because he tugs his jacket sleeve back farther, stretching the protective layer of plastic tauter around his wrist and moving it closer so Tweek could get a clearer view.

“I’m fine Tweek, stop worrying,” his voice is the patiently secure one he usually reserves for private conversations, “I had it done at the tattoo parlor Red’s apprenticing at. It was all very clean and professional.”

Tweek lets out a not quite sigh of relief and tries to force his spine to relax. Ever since the college acceptance letters started coming in he’d been actively on edge, his bones feeling stiff and his skin over sensitive as he waits for the safety and security of his life to be snapped in multiple directions.

“I was going to show you after it healed.” Craig says.

Tweek blinks hard, narrowing his attention to the fresh ink he works on regulating his breathing. Over Craig’s inner wrist three small stars are scattered around a slightly bigger Saturn, drawn in simple unmeasured lines that make it look like one of the doodles in the margins of Craig's textbooks. The skin doesn't look swollen or irritated, Tweek can’t even make out any leftover pinkness to the skin where the color was needled in. ** **  
 ********

The tattoo is actually pretty cute, and it’s so Craig that Tweek is already adjusting to it’s existence as a permanent fixture of Craig's appearance.

“Yesterday after we celebrated Clyde actually getting accepted into a college, let alone the university he wanted,” there’s a soft noise of indignation from Clyde at the jab but it goes ignored as Craig continues, “Red invited me to join her at the tattoo parlor to check it out and I agreed.”

Tweek attempts a hum of acknowledgment, it sounds more like a grunt. The longer he stares at the tattoo the more it grows on him. The dark black lines are sharp and Tweek has the urge to touch them, trace them with his fingertips, with his tongue.

He feels a flush creeping over his ears.

“She picked me up this morning on her way to the shop and I had it done.” Craig continues, oblivious to where Tweek’s line of thought has diverted.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to get one?” Tweek asks, and his voice feels vulnerable in a way he hates.

He almost regrets the question, it isn't like he expects Craig to tell him everything and he knows he doesn't have the right to ask for him to. He wonders if he’s the last to know, the thought is bitter and he tries not to take offense to the imagined slight.

“I didn't want you to worry.” Craig says, plainly as if it’s obvious. Tweek believes him.

There's something soft in Craig's expression when Tweek looks up from the ink, it makes him feel bad for assuming Craig would be anything but smart about any of this. It also makes a burst of yearning energy thrum through him.

Craig smiles but it’s one of uncertainty and Tweek realizes he's been staring kind of blankly. “I like it,” he says, flashing Craig with an assuring smile that grows when Craig's own expression relaxes into something much more confident.

“Cool.” Craig says, back to his usual unimpressed monotonous speech pattern.

The way his lips twitch is a tell Tweek's grown accustomed to recognizing over their years as friends. He cocks his head to the side with a knowing smirk at the obviousness of Craig trying to suppress the size of his smile. He watches the lips twitch until the smile cracks a bit wider, curious when from the corner of his eye he sees Craig move his arm as if reaching for his hand. He glances between Craig’s face and the slow inching progression of his hand, he feels his own fingers stretch out eagerly in pleased curiosity.

Just before their hands touch an attack cry of “Set Slap!” accompanies a sudden blur of movement and they both flinch back, pulling away. Craig’s reflexes kick in with impressive speed, jerking his left wrist protectively behind him as Clyde’s hand comes swinging down forcefully where Craig's wrist had just been.

The moment is ruined. Tweek can’t stop the way the muscle in his eyelid starts to spasm and he rubs it absently, satisfied at the way Craig turns on Clyde angrily.

“I warned you Donovan!” Craig shouts, throwing his body weight towards the brunette in a tackle. Clyde yelps and scrambles to crawl behind Tweek for protection.

“But Craig!” Clyde cries over Tweek's shoulder. “The ink needs set!” He whines.

Craig straightens up, standing with his hands on his hips and an irritated growl in his throat that Tweek tries to tell his mind to keep in context. “I told you no!” Craig asserts and stalks after him.

“It’s a tradition!” Clyde yells in an attempt to reason with him. He makes a dive out from behind Tweek towards Token but Craig is too fast, his arms too long.

“It’s stupid and unnecessary!” Argues Craig, snagging Clyde’s ankle before the man can scurry out of reach. He snorts in cruel amusement when Clyde ends up eating carpet with a face plant when he gives up trying to pull his leg free.

“But-” Clyde starts.

“Clyde,” Token interrupts, “Do we need to have the consent talk with you?”

Craig lets out a snort as a laugh escapes him. Tweek smiles.

“I'm sure Tweek and Craig can recall some of the lectures PC Principal gave them in elementary about the importance of consent.” Token continues, a playful smirk in place.

Jimmy lets out a burst of laughter, “Good one Token.” He says, before continuing to stutter through an explanation of their behavior to whoever’s on the other line. Even Clyde finds it in himself to guffaw at the memory, hitching himself up on his elbows as he barks out laughter.

Tweek carefully doesn't react, smile still in place thanks to the training of drama class, though he has to rub harder at his eye as a proper twitch threatens to set in. He watches Craig's reaction with one eye, but from the angles he’s sitting he can’t get a good read of Craig’s expression.

They don't often bring up the time everyone thought they were gay and they'd ended up going along with it. South Park got over it’s PC craze by the end of the year, coming upon the conclusion by themselves that they must have pushed a PC gay agenda on the boys and that they shouldn't be pressured to stay dating. Ironically this had resulted in everyone pressuring them to break up, still not listening to their protests and not believing them when they said they really had decided to give being boyfriends a try.

It hadn't mattered too much at the time when they caved and broke up, as kids “dating” was just hanging out with an attached title. Besides not holding hands anymore nothing else had really changed about the friendship they'd made and the town was kept satisfied.

Sometimes Tweek liked to pretend they’d never really broken up. It was a pathetic thought to hold onto, especially since it made him feel insanely guilty during the few dates he’d attempted and ridiculously jealous when Craig was the one to get a boyfriend or girlfriend. Settling into a comfortable position Tweek pulls at the threads making up the carpet with his free hand, trying not to look so emotionally compromised by the turn of conversation.

A smack cuts through the laughs in the room and Tweek watches with surprised humor as Clyde reaches up to clutch the back of his head and Craig shakes his hand out with a satisfied snort. Clyde's wide startled eyes stayed unfocused for a moment after his laughter was abruptly cut short by the assault before tears start pooling in his eyes and he makes an exaggerated play of his pain.

Craig flips him off.

“Hey man!” Clyde cries through a pout and looks towards Token like a child planning to tattle if the unfairness isn't caught on its own.

Token is laughing behind the palm he rests his chin on, smiling sympathetically at Clyde but offering no condolences or reprimands. Clyde pouts harder. Craig grumbles under his breath as he moves to sit cross legged next to Tweek on the plush carpet. He picks up the abandoned controller Clyde had dropped though he doesn't unpause the game.

Behind them Jimmy laughs again, he’s hung up the phone and is leaning against the window with an amused grin.

“Ma-man. I'm su-sure gonna miss this when I'm at college.” He says, and the atmosphere of the room shifts. Tweek’s posture straightens, and he pulls harder on the carpet fibers.

“Yeah. If I get into Berkeley I’ll miss this too.” Token agrees, a wistfully nostalgic edge to his voice.

“Of course you’ll get in.” Clyde doesn't hesitate to reassure him, despite the fact his voice wavers.

Tweek is selfishly glad he’s not the only one affected by all the impending changes.

“Just think, no South Park to hold us back from being the adults we want to be.” Craig speaks up, his usual monotone replaced with something a bit more lively sounding. “We’ll be sooo happy.”

Token hums an agreement. Clyde nods, sitting up properly. Jimmy moves away from the wall, closer to them.

“It’ll be great.” Craig adds, “It won't be the same, but whose to say it won't be better?” He sounds determinedly optimistic, like he means it, truly believes it.

Everyone nods and smiles, like the thought is comforting. Token kicks Clyde lightly, in a friendly affectionate manner like he’s always done because he still can and it’s his way of making sure Clyde’s not working himself into sentimental waterworks. Clyde smiles more confidently after the nudge and Jimmy verbally confirms he likes Craig's outlook.

Tweek just wants to scream.

He wants to argue that no, it can’t be better to be miles away from each other, loaded down with more schoolwork than any of them are used to. It won't be better spending their free time at minimum wage jobs to scrape by while paying off all their student debt to stay in school and being surrounded by strangers who could very well be murderers. Surrounded by people who won't understand any of their South Park quirks, who will make fun of him for his anxieties and his dependence on caffeine or the array of meds he’s prescribed to take. And it won't be better to be slowly forgotten right along with their childhood town, by his friends, by his best friend, by Craig.

Tweek stays silent as Jimmy breaks the tension with a couple lighthearted jokes and everyone chuckles. His stomach is too knotted up to laugh himself despite finding the material humorous, he does manage to mutter a parting comment as Jimmy heads home for the evening.

Tweek spends the next few hours torn between wanting to press as close into Craig's side as he can get away with for as long as he can or to go directly home, curl up in a defensive ball under his blankets and pretend the pain of the future can't touch him.

He chooses to stay.

He doesn't even pull away from Craig's personal bubble once, not even for coffee. Craig never bothers to pull his sleeve back down and Tweek spends the time he’s glued to Craig by stealing long glances at the bared ink.

He doesn't leave until Craig does, and he lets Craig walk him home since it's closer and not really out of the way.

Craig waits to start walking away until Tweek waves to him safely from his bedroom window, a habit he’d started to soothe Tweek's own paranoia.

Twenty minutes later, give or take, Tweek is laying in bed with the covers pulled all the way over his head, making a tent with his knees and illuminating the darkness with the light from his phone.

He’s tired, exhausted after a long morning shift at the coffee shop and an emotionally draining evening at Tokens. He think’s he might actually get a decent night's sleep. He hopes he doesn't sleep hard enough to oversleep his alarm, he hates walking to school when he misses the bus, it's one of the few times he wishes he could get over his crippling anxiety at the wheel so he could learn to drive and get his licence.

He triple checks the alarm on his phone before popping out of his makeshift fort to reach for the old clock on his bedside table. He sets its alarm as well.

The chime of his text alert goes off from his phones spot cradled in his lap. Throwing himself back into his nest of blankets he gets comfy before lifting his phone. The “I got home safe” text and selfie he’d been waiting for pops on the screen and he answers back with a smiley face.

He takes a moment to enjoy the image before saving it safely into his phone, followed by backing it up into his Dropbox for even more safe keeping. The photo is just a head shot against the backdrop of pillows, Craig’s cheeks still pink from the brisk walk in the late night chill and his head is still covered by his hat which he hasn't yet bothered to remove. What Tweek takes note of though is the blurry piece sign Craig had thrown up towards the corner of the picture, more specifically his attention narrows down on the one star and half of Saturn he can just make out  above where the picture crops off.

He drops his eyes past the photo, farther than the edge of the screen, the edge of his phone case. The phone illuminates the pale stretch of his wrist and he swallows hard. His wrist is bonier than Craig's, he wonders how much it hurt Craig to get his piece done, how much his own wrist would hurt under the tattoo gun. He frowns, tries to imagine it, gives up.

He turns his phone screen off, turning onto his side. Shoving his hand, phone and all, under his pillow he brings his knees up against his chest. He needs to get to sleep, he tells himself. The morning brings Monday and Monday means school and school means first period and he can't miss that class if he wants to put the idea in his head into motion.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm [Kitschdemotic](http://kitschdemotic.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> This story is Creek, I try to leave any other friendships/relationships are left up to interpretation.  
> Shout out to [letgoofmygreggo](http://letgoofmygreggo.tumblr.com/) for helping Beta this work.
> 
>  
> 
> [See Craig's tattoo](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/b1/59/74/b15974dac5826c565dd7c58901aef356.jpg)

Chapter 2

 

He doesn’t oversleep his alarm.

It does it’s job and he startles awake. Before he can even contemplate hitting snooze there’s the gentle rapping of his mom’s knock against his door. He grabs the same jeans he’d worn the night before from the floor and pulls them on, frowning at the small stain on the denim from yesterday morning's spilled coffee. He doesn’t bother locating a new pair, instead he moves on to shuffle through a basket of clean clothes for a fresh top.

His mom knocks again, “Tweek?” She calls.

He pauses in his search to glance at the door. “Yes Mom?” He asks, feeling his lips twitch in annoyance when she takes it as an invitation to enter his room.

Turning back to the pile of clothes he plucks out one of his usual button downs, slipping his arms through the sleeves. His mom leans against the now open door frame, hands folded patiently in front of herself as he continues digging in the pile.  

“There’s a protest planned for today.” She says and Tweek clenches a fist around the pair of socks he’d just grabbed. “What?!” He exclaims, a nervous wave of panic making his stomach drop. “Where? Over what?” He asks, simultaneously trying to eye his mom for signs of trouble while lifting a foot and attempting to balance on one leg long enough to slip a sock on.

“Sheila Broflovski wants to get rid of the Hobby Lobby that just opened in the mall,” She explains, and Tweek’s shoulders loose some of their tension. “Your father expects a big rush tonight from all the excitement.” She continues and he realizes why she’s here. He hops onto his other leg, managing to raise his foot and tug the sock on before his balance becomes compromised.

“We know you’re not scheduled to work tonight but he wanted to know if you’d mind pulling in some overtime?” She asks, just like he knew she would. He avoids looking at her, glances around his floor for his shoes instead. He finds one next to his desk chair and grabs for it.

He hates saying no to his parents when they need help, and he suspects they know it which is why they always ask him first before any of the other employees. He can’t bring himself to be annoyed though because they pay him above minimum wage for his hours on top of a weekly allowance and he does know the workings of the shop better than anyone else.

Guilt churns in his stomach when he remembers that soon enough he’ll be at college and not able to help his parents out when they need it. It doesn’t make him want to suddenly go to work after school though. If he’s really leaving South Park in a few months he’d rather be spending his time left on other things, with other people.

“Ack, I don’t know!” He all but yells, still searching for his other shoe, “I, uhm, I think I have Drama Practice after school today!” He lies, badly, in a more controlled volume.

It’s a bad lie because it could easily be picked apart if questioned, he could of come up with a better one if he hadn’t felt so frenzied. Drama club prefers morning rehearsals, only doing evening practice the week prior to a public show. They also only met outside of class on tuesdays, thursdays, and sometimes fridays. The biggest flaw in his excuse, he thinks, is that they’ve already put on their last play for the year and have nothing to hold a practice for. His right sleeve starts to slip down his shoulder as he pulls his shoe on without bothering to untie the laces first 

“Oh, alright then Sweetie.” His mom says, “Have fun then. I’ll go in to help him instead, though that means I won’t have time to cook dinner tonight.”

He looks over at her unsure if it was really that easy to get out of it, “O-Okay,” he stutters.

“You can eat over at a friends again, right?” She asks, her eyes glazed in that soft way he’s come to relate with the pills she keeps on her nightstand. There’s still no disappointment or bitterness in her voice and he blinks. He’s unsure if he’s relieved that he got away with declining the work or letdown that she didn’t pay enough attention to his activities to catch the obvious lie.

“Uhm, yeah. No problem.” He manages to say, he wonders if his voice comes out as tight as it feels. He can’t bring himself to make eye contact with her and lowers his gaze. He spots his other shoe by her feet.

He decides to change his focus to the buttons of his shirt instead. He gets the first two fine, but his mom is still watching him and he feels his fingers start to tremble under her gaze. The next button repeatedly slips from his fingertips he skips it in favor of the next one.

“Here, let me help you.” His mom speaks up, voice pleasant and friendly, unaware of her faults as a mother. Tweek drops the button in surprise at the offer. She smiles kindly at him, looking almost concerned, and he can’t stay upset with her. She lifts her hands towards him, waiting for him to come to her to accept her help.

He walks over and lets her take over unbuttoning his faulty pairing and matching the rest up in proper order. It’s a quiet moment between them and Tweek wonders if it’ll be one he’ll remember when he’s homesick.

“Would you like me to get you a cup of coffee?” She asks when she’s done, patting the front of his shirt down.

“Yes, please.” He says and she nods, heading off to fix him a drink. He has the sudden urge to pull her back and into a hug but doesn’t because he doesn’t want her to worry that something’s wrong. He picks up the shoe she’d been standing by and shoves it on instead.

He flits between his room and the bathroom as he goes about his morning routine, accepting the coffee his mom brings him and almost spilling it down his shirt when the screech of the clock on his nightstand shrills it’s alarm at him.

He leaves his house on schedule, making it to the bus stop at the same time as Token. Heidi and Esther are already there, taking up the space on the short bench. Token sits on the curb and waves for Tweek to join him. Hugging his school binder to his chest he does, staring absently down the road for the bus to come take them away to the High School. They don’t say much as they wait, Token typing distractedly at his phone and Tweek chewing on his lips.

The girls chatter, their voices filling the silence helping pass the time though he doesn’t actively pay attention to their topics of choice. He bites hard enough to draw blood by accident when he overhears them bring up the subject of matching BFF tattoos. They wonder if Red would give them a friend discount or make them pay full price. He winces and sucks soothingly on the sore spot, trying to ignore the way his pulse thrums with a sudden anxiety. Their conversation is cut short when a powder pink car pulls up, and despite knowing Red’s car is silver he still has a moment of thinking it’s her when a head of long red hair sticks out.  

“Hey! You sluts need a ride!?” Sally calls out, grinning at her friends and ignoring Tweek and Tokens presence.

“From a skank like you?” Heidi teases through a giggle. Her and Esther are already gathering their things up, “You know it!” She adds. “Thanks,” Tweek hears Esther say as she slips in the backseat behind Heidi, “You’re a doll.”    

Sally drives off and then it’s him and Token left to sit on the curb. They don’t bother to move to the vacated bench, the bus is due any minute.

Not for the first time Tweek wishes Tokens parents would let him drive his car to school. Then they could just carpool. The Blacks thought making their son take the public transport would keep him humble, Clyde didn’t have a vehicle to drive them, Tweek couldn’t drive even if he had a car, and Craig’s dad refused to let any of them waste gas money on taking Craig’s car anywhere that public transport offered the service for free or could be considered walking distance.

When the bus pulls up he follows Token into their usual seats that Craig and Clyde save for them. Token’s butt doesn’t even hit the cushion beside Clyde before the brunette is opening his mouth, jumping straight into what sounds like the middle of a conversation. Token doesn’t miss a beat in response and Tweek wonders if Clyde had been the one he’d been texting.

“Hey Tweek.” Craig greets as Tweek sits beside him.

“Hey,” Tweek replies and, because he apparently doesn’t have a filter when he wants one, asks “How’s your tattoo doing?”

Craig smiles, pulling his sleeve up enough to show his wrist. “It’s fine. It’s practically all healed up, no scabbing, not even tender.” He assures, a hint of pride in his voice, “It is a little dry though, I almost scratched it without thinking when I woke up. It’s not too itchy though.”

There’s an enthusiasm to his voice as he speaks, obviously content with the subject. Tweek smiles, glad Craig is still enthused about the piece, no signs of regret over the placement, design, or existence of it. He tries to glance evenly between the ink and Craig's face, showing his interest in what his friends saying but trying to get a good eyeful of the design without coming across as weird for staring too long.

“Here,” Craig says, and suddenly he’s hovering his wrist up across from Tweek’s chest.

Making a noise of surprise in his throat Tweek waits for Craig to explain himself. His eyes flick between his arm and Tweek expectantly and when he doesn’t say anything more Tweek wraps the fingers of one hand over Craig’s forearm, glancing over at Craig to check that he’s reading the situation right. Craigs lips quirk up in encouragement and Tweek wraps his other hand under the back of Craigs, curling his fingers up and around his palm, tugging the wrist closer to his face for inspection.

He eyes the details where each star is different, the uneven lines all unique. The lines of Saturn look rougher than the rest, dry and almost flaky as it heals. His hand around Craig’s arm moves, fingertips hovering just above the dark lines but not touching. He does touch the skin around them, circling the set a couple times before rubbing the skin between the stars carefully with middle and pointer fingers.

“Whoa, cute ink Tucker.” A voice says from above them and Tweek jerks his hands away in surprise, the arm falls limply into his lap and he tries not to blush at how Craig doesn’t bother moving it away.

Looking up he finds Annie Nelson taking a seat in the row in front of them next to Jason. She situates herself to where she can peer over the back of her seat and peer down at the tattoo.

“Uh, thanks.” Craig says with uncertainty, sounding like he might mean it but also still lifting his right hand up to flip her off anyway, a crease between his brows hinting at agitation. She doesn't seem to notice or care, probably used to expecting the behavior from him like one might a wave hello from anyone else.

“It’s kinda small.” Jason comments, peering over the seat as well and eyeing the ink with a disdainful expression. Tweek frowns in offense but Craig only shrugs in response so Tweek follows his lead and decides to ignore the shade.

“I like it.” He can’t help but say anyway, a bit of a defiant edge to his voice as he glares at Jason, waiting for him to say something negative.

“Me too.” Annie agrees and Jason's frown deepens but Craig ignores them, smiling at Tweek in the same way he had the first time Tweek had verbalized his approval. He looks pleased, relaxed and unconcerned about the other's opinions and the warning glare Tweek had been fixing Jason with wilts away in favor of smiling back at him.

“Did it hurt?” Annie asks. It’s a question that had been burning on Tweek's lips since the previous night. Craig looks away from Tweek, his lips pursing in contemplation as he considers the question.

“Not really, it didn't take very long. It kind of tickled at one point.”

“Really?” She asks with a look of mild curiosity.

“Yeah,” Craig answers, “A couple times it did feel uncomfortable, closer to a low burning.”

“I bet mine hurt more.” Jason declares suddenly, rolling a sleeve up to show the three simple black bands of varying thickness wrapped around his forearm. Craig sets him with a flat look.

“Probably.” He agrees, clearly not interested in making it a contest. He moves his arm out of Tweek's lap, tugging his sleeve back down to Tweek's disappointment.

“You going to get any more?” Annie asks, and Tweek turns to looks up from the covered wrist to see the answer.

Craig shrugs, and looks up at the roof of the bus. “I don't know.” He says. Tweek can tell he’s telling the truth, probably not having thought about it. Annie frowns, as if she doesn't find the answer acceptable.

“I might.” Jason says to her as he turns back around in his seat, taking her attention with him.

They pull into the bus lot shortly after and Tweek walks beside Craig with Clyde and Token to the senior lockers. Tweek and Craig split off first, their lockers being closest together in the section assigned to students with the last names starting with O-S while Token and Clyde have to head to the A-G section at the opposite end of the hall.

He doesn’t really need anything for class but he still waits around, staring into the messy void of his open locker while Craig collects the reading material for his English course from his own a few feet away.

“See you in Physics?” Craig asks him and Tweek nods like he always does. He watches Craig head in the opposite direction than his Drama class before wedging his binder into the chaos of his locker. Forcing the door to close with an extra shove and taking a deep breath to center himself he heads to class, already anticipating the warm cup of coffee he’ll be able to grab from the pot Mrs. Amard keeps full beside her desk.

When he gets to the small room attached to the back of the auditorium stage he practically throws himself into a chair. His heart is racing and he forces himself not to watch the doorway as his classmates file in. He’s staring so intently at his feet, fingers stuffed into his mouth as he gnaws on his cuticles that he almost jumps out of skin when Kenny taps him on the shoulder. The other blonde raises a concerned eyebrow, shoving a thumb in the direction of the teacher who had been trying to get his attention.

He jerks upright with a cry of, “Agh! What?!” The immediate feel of heat blooming over his face and up his neck when half the class turn their heads towards him only intensifies when he spots Red among them. The sudden sensation of his heart palpitating in his chest, skipping a beat and then quickly compensating with too fast of beats, has him choking from what feels like a second of stolen breath. He wonders if he had actually forgot to stop breathing in his embarrassment.

“Are you alright Tweek?” Mrs. Amard asks with more patience than the other teachers usually spare him. He doesn’t try to force a smile but he nods, clutching his knees tightly under his palms and trying to breathe long even breaths through his nose.

“Here,” He says, his voice sounding strangled to his own ears.

The rest of the class have already gone back to their own low conversations but Mrs. Amard continues to shoot him worried glances. He wants to scream at her to stop, that he can feel her eyes on his skin and it itches. He waits for her to finish roll call and put a black and white Fred Astaire film on the TV and when she allows the students to do as they wish he follows half the class through the door leading into the auditorium rather than stay in the room with her. Even before he finds a spot to hover awkwardly by the prop trunk he considers turning back to grab a cup of coffee but the thought of Mrs. Amard’s good meaning questions makes his stomach churn.

He liked her, he really did, she shared her coffee and never made him feel the pressure of a deadline. She was also an overly maternal woman, which lead to her being nosy and protective during the times he just needed his space.

Drama was one of the classes that most students only took for it being a “bird course” that they could easily fly right through without much effort. Signing up for Drama also meant automatically being expected to participate in Drama club as most of your grade came from your involvement and effort in helping out on the school plays in some way. It was Tweek’s favorite elective to take, and he’d been lucky to fit it into his schedule this year on top of all the other college prep courses he was taking. Besides him the only two kids who had signed up for it under each consecutive title of Drama 2, 3, and 4 were Kenny and Butters. They weren’t bad actors, though Tweek suspected they had ulterior motives for being there, like the extremely light work load and excuse to dress up in fancy female costumes outside of Halloween.

He himself enjoyed the acting, it was something he was good at. Getting lost in a character was strangely therapeutic, and Craig always seemed so stunned, so proud, after every one of his performances. The class was something he could look forward to, a whole hour he could spend meditating, preparing himself mentally for the rest of the day, and catching up on assignments or studying.

Today the class didn’t bring him it’s usual relaxment. It wasn’t even the classes fault, he loved the movie Top Hat and if he didn’t have a personal mission to accomplish he’d be in there watching it. Instead he was watching Red chat with a couple girls Tweek couldn’t recognize for the life of him as he tried to figure out how to form the nerve to get her alone in order to talk.

“Not watching a movie today?” Kenny asks, plopping himself atop the trunk and lying back to spread out across its length. Tweek briefly wonders where Butters is, he considers asking but then he spots him lying on the ground stage left, his head propped against a sandbag and an oversized sombrero tilted over her eyes. “Not really interested in it.” He says, looking back at Kenny who almost looks just as close to dozing off right there on the dented metal.

Kenny levels a look of suspicion up at him, a skeptical eyebrow perfectly arched. Tweek doesn’t elaborate his excuse further, instead matching Kenny’s look with the best impression he can muster of Craig’s signature blank expression. Kenny’s the first to look away, but only to flip over onto his stomach.

“Alright, spill.” He finally says, propping his elbows on the edge of the trunk and cradling his chin in his palms, blinking his eyes up innocently at Tweek like a puppy expecting a treat.

“What?” Tweek asks, trying to channel his acting skills into his facial muscles to keep from giving anything away, “I don’t have anything to spill.” He insists. His confused innocence doesn’t seem to phase Kenny’s interest, he just tilts his head forward and peers up at him through heavy eyelashes.

“You love Fred Astaire,” Kenny starts, “Top Hat is one of your favorites, your first move upon entering class wasn’t to grab coffee, you spaced out for a good five minutes while shaking in your seat, and you almost had what looked to be a downright panic attack.” A different finger taps against his cheek for each statement and when he's concluded his points he looks more pointedly at the twitchy blonde before repeating, “Spill.”

Tweek frowns and turns his back on him. He’s still trying to decide if he has the courage to initiate what he wants into motion. On the bus, looking so intimately at the image that was now a permanent part of Craig, something permanently associated to his personality and body, the wild idea itching in his brain the night before had suddenly became that much more of a real desire to implement, to obtain.

He bites his lip, his forehead feels sweaty, his hands clammy. The idea made him nervous and excited and worried all at once. Thoughts of regret and complications nagged at the edges but overall his mind was set. He just had to convince his guts that he could go through with it, that he could do it. The first step was talking to Red, with her piercings, intimidating personally, her criticizing gaze, and familial relationship with Craig that could mean whatever he says or does might get out before he's ready.

“I wanted to talk to Red.” He finds himself blurting out. Turning his body back towards Kenny he presses his lips together, not wanting to say more.

He can't explain how he’s afraid of losing Craig in his life in a minimum of three months and wants a piece of him to hold onto when he’s trying to keep himself together every night and through the lonely days. He can't explain how he doesn't want it to get out, what he’s planning to do, because he’s afraid Craig and everyone will think it's creepy and obsessive. His ears feel like they're on fire, burning with shame.

Kenny is sitting up, the heels of his sneakers knocking obnoxiously against the metal of the trunk as he idly swings his legs. There's a second of confused interest at the new information and then his expression changes, his lips forming a tiny ‘o’ and both eyebrows lifting into his bangs. There’s an amount of surprise written there that confuses Tweek but then it fades into a lecherous grin.

“Oh.” He says, eyebrows giving a wiggle.

Tweek gasps, instantly realizing what dots Kenny has wrongly connected between his flustered behavior and Red’s involvement. Before Tweek can stop him he cups his hands over his mouth and calls out, “Hey! Red Hot! Yo!” And Red looks up at them in minor annoyance.

“What!? Ack!” He squeaks, “Kenny, no!” He tries to push down the arm Kenny raises to wave her over with but Kenny just sits up straighter and leans out of Tweeks reach.

“Stop! It’s not like that.” He says through his teeth, heat blooming in his face. He glances over his shoulder and winces when he see’s Red heading across the auditorium towards them.

“Ugh!” He says, shoulders slumping in defeat.

He gives Kenny an angry push and clenches his fists so he doesn’t punch him. He considers chickening out and hiding inside the haven of the classroom, losing himself in the hypnotic dance moves of Mr. Astaire, and putting off the whole conversation until the last few days of school when there’ll be less time for the rumors to risk being spread.  
 ****

He glances at his wrist. He doesn't want to wait that long.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters are done and they just need proof read. I'm going to add a chapter at a time unless there's demand, in which case I'll try to get them out faster.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm [Kitschdemotic](http://kitschdemotic.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> This story is Creek, I try to leave any other friendships/relationships are left up to interpretation.  
> Shout out to [letgoofmygreggo](http://letgoofmygreggo.tumblr.com/) for helping Beta this work.  
>  
> 
> [See Craig's tattoo](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/b1/59/74/b15974dac5826c565dd7c58901aef356.jpg)

 

Chapter 3

 ****  
  


He wants what connection to Craig he can have as soon as he can have it. He swallows thickly, leans against the wall beside Kenny, licks his dry lips, and briefly considers that he could just confront his best friend about his emotional turmoil. He could openly discuss their friendship, their future, his fears. Confess what direction he would of preferred their relationship to have developed in since fourth grade.

This is easier than any of that, and he may be too much of a coward to ask the guy he's been attracted to for his entire adolescence out, but he can at least be man enough to ask for a tattoo.

“Hey Red.” He says when she’s in front of them. Beside him Kenny echos the sentiment.

“Hey Ken, Tweek.” She says, absently twisting her phone between her fingers. She tilts her head to the side and her hair rolls over her shoulder like a waterfall of lava as she gives Tweek a once over. Tweek struggles not to flinch under her scrutiny. “You look nice. Who are you trying to impress?” She teases, a small smug upturn to her lip that reminds Tweek of Craig.

“Wha-” He starts, glancing down himself in bafflement just as Kenny lets out a bark of laughter. He realizes she means his properly buttoned shirt and tries not to blush in embarrassment, his face already warmer than he’d like. He doesn't want to admit his mom helped dress him but he’s also drawing up blank on what else to say.

It turns out Kenny has something to say for him, “He cleans up nice doesn’t he? He’s a little shaky at times like a chihuahua, or a nervous rodent.” He pauses, pushing a finger against his lips in considerations, “Like a gerbil, or guinea pig,” He adds thoughtfully, then his face brightens up again and he drops his finger and continues, “But those are cute, right? You think he’s cute?”

“Uh,” She starts, pausing as she side eyes Tweek, “Sure?” She says, not sounding sure at all. “What did you guys want?” She asks, her tone much more weary and a little threatening. It makes Tweek press further against the wall.

Kenny grins widely and Tweek elbows him sharply, not even trying to be subtle. It doesn't deter Kenny who barely looks phased, rubbing the sore spot he continues to grin, “Tweek was just telling me how he’d been thinking of you all morning and wanted to chat you up.” He says, voice sounding especially loud to Tweek's ears.

“Ghhgh!” Tweek groans, high pitched and slightly echoey across the stage. He slaps a hand across his face in frustration and embarrassment, cursing under his breath into his palm. Peering through his fingers he once again considers backing out of the whole thing. His chest twists tightly, a queasy feeling washing over his gut at the thought. Dragging his hand down his face he lifts his chin in determination. Red eyes them in a way that suggests she’s trying to figure out what they’re up to.

“O… Kay,” She says slowly, her lips twisting down into something akin to a suspicious frown. The light glints on the small diamond of her lip ring from the action. Tweek clears his throat.

“So, uh, Kenny. Could you just,” He falters for a moment, gestures with his hands in a shooing motion. Kenny continues to sit, hands folded in his lap and Tweek clenches his fists. He can’t have this conversation with Kenny eaves dropping. “You know…” He tries, trailing off with a frown and hoping Kenny takes the hint. He doesn’t.

“Agh!” He finally snaps, “Go away Kenny!”

Kenny blinks, and then as if just being hit with a realization says,“Oh! Right.” Followed by a comically lascivious wink before he pushes himself up and off of his make shift seat. Tweek doesn’t even try to correct him on his assumptions, just squares his shoulders and watches the blonde go until he’s sure he’s minding his own business. Once he’s satisfied he turns back to Red to find her watching him, hands on her hips.

“So uh,” He begins but Red cuts him off, “Look, you don’t _really_ want to ask me out, do you?” There’s something daring, angry, in the way she says it that has Tweek throwing his hands up in a defensive surrender under her glare.

“No!” He quickly assures her, “It’s nothing like that at all.” She tilts her chin further up and he worries he offended her.

“You know how Kenny is, that's all.” He tries to reason and her lips twist before she relents, nodding and relaxing her posture. Then she’s smiling very friendly like, “So what's up?”

He chews on his lip, trying to figure out how to broach the subject.

“You did a good job on Craig’s tattoo.” He settles on saying, pulling at his shirttails nervously. Her smile widens.

“Thanks! My mentor said I replicated the picture perfectly,” She boasts, “You like it I take?” He nods quickly, wondering if she’s already figured him out. “Good. I told Craig you would, but he was afraid you’d think it was stupid or something.” Tweek blinks, not sure how to respond or what to do with that bit of information. She continues, “I told him if anything was stupid it was him for worrying”

“Oh.” He says. Shuffling his feet he tries to figure out what to say. She waits. “Can I ask you a favor?” He finally asks.

“You can ask,” She answers, shifting her weight onto her other foot, “I can't guarantee I’ll do it.”

He thinks of the clean lines on Craig's wrist again, imagines them as his own.

“I want a tattoo.” He says, voice strong and sounding just as confident in the decision as he feels. Her smile fluctuates between amused and pleasantly surprised before she lifts an arm to swing over his shoulder. He tries not to flinch at the abrupt contact.

“What are we talking, kid?” She asks, which makes him want to point out how he’s technically older than her. “Something tiny just to prove you can do it too? Something huge and wild to prove how bad ass you are? Wanting to rebrand your image before college? Or maybe just something to help you overcome a fear of needles, commitment maybe?” She lists off, pulling him down onto the vacated lid with her as she sits, removing her arm from his shoulder to dig through her boho purse.

“Huh?” He says, feeling overwhelmed by her sudden enthusiasm. She pulls out a pencil and small sketchbook, flipping to a blank page and looking up at him expectantly.

“Do you have anything in mind? I can draw up a few sketches and we can figure out what price range covers what you're wanting. Just-”

“I actually have an exact image in mind.” He interrupts, staring dubiously at the sketchbook. “And I don't care about the price.” He adds which gives her pause.

“Oh. Okay.” She says, placing the pencil against the margin of the book and waiting for him to elaborate. He blushes under her attentiveness, suddenly finding it embarrassing to say.

“I want the same one as Craig, exactly, in the same spot and size.” He says, struggling to word his request carefully.

She continues to just look at him, listening. His heart speeds up, he thinks of Esther and Heidi and the BFF tattoos they want, he considers if what he wants could be considered something similar.  “Like a-”

“Couples tattoo!” She suddenly exclaims, cutting him off. She’s perked up again, happy smile back in place as she flips through the sketchbook determinedly. He flushes harder at the accusation, not entirely put off by the description but aware of the implications.

“Phshhhhck!” He splutters, the sound coming out a crossbreed of scoff and worried shushing. He glances around them, worried about being overheard.

“I have the exact sketch Craig did in here that I traced for the design- aha! Here it is.” She announces, spreading her palms over the pages to flatten them. Immediately Tweek recognizes the dark blue ink of Craig's favorite pen, takes in the proof of it being Craig’s design drawn by Craig’s hand.

“I even took quite a few pictures of it afterwards to add to my slowly growing portfolio. We’ll be able to get in just the right spot like you want.” She says. His wrist tingles in his anticipation and he rubs at it.

“When did you want to get it done?” She asks, “I only go in Friday this weekend but-”

“When’s the soonest you do go in?” He cuts her off, feeling a rush of impatience as his adrenaline spikes, his heart picking up speed in his chest.

“After school.” She replies, lifting an eyebrow and giving him the same smug smirk from earlier. “If we leave right after the bell I can squeeze you in.”

He feels like hugging her. Instead he looks her square in the eye, “Don’t tell anyone!” He shouts, then lowers his voice to say, “I don't want anyone to know. Please?”

“Afraid you'll be held to it if you chicken out?” She teases, turning to put away her book.

“No!” He exclaims, leaning forward to regain her attention and express his adamance. “I just, I, well- ugh!” He gives up, grunting in frustration when the words won't come out. Her smirk softens when she realizes how he’s struggling.

“Look, I won't tell anyone about this, not even Craig.” She leans forward to whisper, “If you don't let anyone know I’ll do it for you for the price of free.”

He stares dumbly for a second, she was going to do it for free? “What, why?”

“If everyone knows I gave you and Craig free tattoo’s they'll all expect the same treatment. I can’t give handouts and sweet deals to everyone or I'd just lose money.” She explains. “Besides if Esther and Heidi hear I gave you and Craig a buy one get one deal on matching tats then they’ll try complaining to my boss that I’m not fairly pricing.” She says. She adjusts her purse, standing back up. He follows suit.

“Yeah, but why are you offering mine for free? I told you the cost wouldn't be a problem.” He asks, still curious, “And you won't even tell Craig?” He clarifies.

“For real, I won’t. I mean, it's obviously important to you that no one, including him, knows. If you want it to be some sort of surprise then it's not my place to spoil your fun.” She shrugs, like it's that simple.

Tweek nods, “Thanks Red.” She smiles, her lip ring twitching as she plays with her tongue against the back of it.

“So after school?” He asks, and she nods.

“I’ll pick you up by the loading dock so no one asks questions. Don't be late.” She says as she slowly backs away from their conversation. Already turning away from him she throws over her shoulder like an afterthought, “You’ll have to handle your own excuses on what you're up to.”

He smiles, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in his excitement. He managed to actually go through with setting his plan in motion and getting everything scheduled for as soon as possible, which would actually get to be that afternoon. He’s suddenly extra grateful for his mom not pushing the subject on his evening plans to get him to work, his hopeful eagerness at Red agreeing and having the time for him paid off. In the middle of mentally celebrating her words sink in and he realizes he’ll have to lie to Craig. He’ll have to make it believable.

Craig knows the group's schedule better than Tweek knows his own. To throw a curve ball into their routine that wasn’t just the usual Clyde having a date, Token having to attend one of his parents socialite events, Tweek having to work, or Craig having to babysit, without proper warning would make his friends curious and Craig concerned. He’s not sure he can handle the pressure. He sucks in a calming breath, goes to make himself some of coffee.

He spends the rest of the hour thinking of different excuses. He needs to study? He never stays after to study, always preferring the controlled environment of his or Craig’s bedroom. All his grades are kept up and the tests that really mattered were finished last week. He could claim he got detention, but Craig would purposely get detention so Tweek didn’t have to spend the hour alone with actual delinquents and so would realize Tweek had lied.

When the bell rings to switch classes he refills the Styrofoam cup and secures the lid before braving the halls. Grabbing his binder from his locker he see’s Token exiting French and shares a wave before changing halls for Statistics. Through the open door of the Algebra II classroom he catches sight of Clyde chatting up Bebe and rolls his eyes.

Statistics turns out to be pretty boring, they spend the time having class discussions over the same subjects they’ve repeatedly went over while Tweek does his best to participate. By the time class is over he is no closer to a decent excuse. Back at the lockers for his English texts he feels Craig brush against him as he passes by. When he looks up he see’s Craig glancing back over his shoulder to see if he’d caught Tweek's attention. Tweek feels all sorts of ridiculous with the way his heart noticeably speeds up when their eyes meet and Craig gives him a little smile. He doesn't look away until Craig does, breaking eye contact to watch where he’s going, quickly being swallowed up in the hallway traffic.

In Tweek's English course the teacher decides to move them to one of the computer classes for the hour to give the alarmingly large amount of kids still working on their thesis papers the extra time needed to complete them before the due date. He stares at his completed essay for a solid ten minutes before exiting out of it and face planting into the keyboard. He ignores the well meaning inquiry of concern Butters gives him and mutters into the keyboard to himself as he thinks.

“Uh, okay then.” Butters eventually says when it becomes apparent he doesn't plan on giving an articulate response. Tweek listens to him go back to typing at the computer beside him. No one else pays Tweek any attention and when the bell rings he manages to lift his head up with a half formed idea in the works.

This time when he stops by his locker he replaces his English texts with his Physics one and takes the short four steps needed to stand by Craig's. He only waits a minute before the familiar blue jacket and hat combo walks up. “Hey.” Craig greets.

“Hey.” Tweek echoes, stepping aside to give access to the locker. Craig quickly grabs the book he needs and turns to walk beside him as they head to class.

“You think Mr. Fucker will assign homework even though we’ve had our finals?” Craig questions.

Tweek frowns, “Probably.”

Mr. Focker, their Physics teacher, felt the need to try his hardest to turn students off of the subject with boring lectures and a surplus of work. Tweek didn't mind the coursework as much as Craig, who hated when all his free time was sucked up in repetitive worksheets when he could be binge watching Red Racer and hanging out with the guys instead.

They walk in companionable silence, their arms pressed together when they squeeze past a crowd of students heading for first lunch. Tweek tries not to feel satisfied that they stay pressed together even after they make it through. Entering the classroom they part to their respective seats, disappointingly across the room from each other. Tweek misses when Craig was allowed to sit by him, but after a semester of whispered conversations and passing notes Mr. Focker had banned them from working together. They hadn't been the only friends split apart and Craig wasn’t the first one to get detention for calling him Mr. Fucker to his face.

From his seat at the back of class Tweek is able to watch Craig doodle during the more stagnant moments of the hour, the only upside to having to sit by himself. His favorite game during Mr. Fockers excessive lectures is trying to guess what images Craig might be making by only his mood and varying strokes. Today the lecture is bypassed for group work, and Tweek pulls his desk closer to Heidi and Kevin’s. Across the room Craig doesn't make an effort to move, waiting for his assigned partners to come to him.

The assignment is just a review sheet to keep them busy, Mr. Focker probably thinking he’s being nice by letting them talk amongst their groups. Tweek would rather speed through the work alone and spend the rest of the class perfecting his excuses.

Between the three of them they fill in answers, Heidi periodically pulling out her phone and sending a text to Esther across the room. Kevin rambles on about a TV show and doesn't seem to mind when Heidi ignores him and Tweek only makes noises to fake paying attention.

After class Craig waits for Tweek by the door while he pushes his desk back into place. Together they stop by their lockers and Craig rambles about the live action Red Racer movie getting a reboot and the pros and cons of them using a popular actor versus a no name one for the lead. Tweek nods, putting his opinion in and feeling satisfied when Craig agrees with him. Token is waiting by his locker when they walk up and rolls his eyes with a groan when he overhears their conversation. He falls into step beside them and Craig glances around, “Where’s Clyde?” He asks.

“They're serving hot rolls with lunch today.” Token says, like it’s an acceptable explanation. It actually is. Tweek gets into line between Craig and Token, catches sight of Clyde already carting his full tray across the cafeteria.

The line moves decently fast and Craig pulls out both of their lunch cards from his wallet to have at the ready. The array of food smells good, look alright, but there's something about the way the lunch ladies slap the mac and cheese on the students bare treys that makes it completely unappetizing. Tweek ignores the servers, grabbing a tray of his own and accepting the small pint sized carton of chocolate milk Craig hands him.

He lets Craig fill his tray with things he knows Tweek might be able to bring himself to eat, knowing that whatever he can’t stomach Clyde will take, and watches as Craig hands over their lunch cards to be swiped. Tweek tries not to stare at lunch lady Maude’s lengthy nose hair as he waits. She’s a sweet older woman and Tweek doesn’t like to be rude, he also doesn't like to be put off the cafeteria food anymore than he already is.

When he gets to the table he takes the seat between Craig and Token, handing his hot roll directly over to Clyde who happily accepts.

“Thanks,” The brunette says around a new mouthful of bread, leaning across the rounded table to conspiratorially ask Tweek “Sowhughksduhrpwidyushrurt?”

“What?” Tweek responds through his grimace at the glimpses of chewed food.

Craig elbows Clyde, “Try talking with your mouth empty.” The suggestion comes out as more of an order and Clyde swallows, rubbing the back of his neck in apologetic shame.

He takes a swig of his milk and tries again “I said, what's up with your shirt? Is it true you were trying to impress a girl this morning?” He waggles his eyebrows for teasing emphasis and Tweek is reminded of Kenny that morning.

“What?” He asks again, his mind racing over what else Clyde might bring up.

“What?” Clyde echoes dissatisfied with his reaction, “I heard about you panicking this morning because you wanted to chat up some girl in your drama class.”

Tweek shakes his head, the motion a bit more jerky and awkward than he’d like, and frowns. Purposely rolling his eyes in a dismissive manner he turns his attention to food on his tray.

“So you didn't dress to impress?” Clyde asks, taking another note.

“Why would I?” Tweek responds, his brow furrowing in annoyance. He can feel Craig and Tokens eyes on him as well and hates the unwanted attention.

Clyde waits until all his food is swallowed before continuing, “Because the rumors said-”

“Ughck!” Tweek groans at the mention of rumors, burying his face in his hands. His blunt fingernails bite into his hairline as tries to will the direction of the conversation away.

“What rumors?” Craig asks. Tweek peeks out from between his fingers at him, Craig’s face is passively level despite how his nasally voice holds a mildly interrogative note.

“Kenny was telling Bebe that Tweek was too embarrassed to chat up some chick so Kenny had to help him start up a conversation.” Clyde dishes with a grin, all too ready to gossip. Tweek pulls open a sealed package of baby carrots, hunching his shoulders and trying to keep from fueling the conversation with his own input.

“You wanted to chat up a girl?” Asks Craig, sounding caught off guard by the thought. Tweek tries not to read into it, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand while evasively shoving a carrot between his lips with the other.

“Yeah, apparently they chatted for awhile too.” Clyde answers for him when he doesn't speak. Craig frowns between them and Tweek pretends not to notice as he nibbles carefully on his carrots.

There's a short silence as Craig pokes at his sandwich and Clyde reaches for the prepackaged salad on Tweek's tray. Without looking Craig smacks the scavenging hand away. “You don't help yourself to Tweek's food Clyde, not until he says he’s done.” He reprimands, reaching to unlid the salad bowl himself and apply the amount of ranch dressing Tweek prefers. Clyde rubs his sore hand with a pout before returning to enthusiastically to the scraps of food he has left on his own tray.

“Here.” Craig says. Tweek looks over and accepts the fork he offers, not quite meeting  Craig's searching gaze. Stirring the ranch into the leafy greens with the utensil he wonders what Craig is hoping to figure out by staring at him. He tries not to worry that he’ll be able to see the truth that triggered the gossip.

He's a couple bites into his meal when Clyde decides to go on, “I heard Tweek-”

“Clyde,” Token cuts in, obviously noticing the discomfort that flashes across Tweek's face and the way Craig's fingers dig into the edges of his sandwich. “Maybe you should drop it, besides you shouldn't believe everything you hear.”

Rather than shutting up Clyde turns on his other friend. “I never said I believed them, that's why I was asking Tweek about it,” he says in defense, “I just thought we, as his friends, should make an effort."

“You just wanted to gossip.” Token replies, unimpressed by Clyde's excuse for agitating their friends.  “Besides,” he adds as he returns to his lunch, “I heard it was only Red.”

Craig looks between Tweek and Token at the new information, eyes narrowed, and for a worried second Tweek thinks Craig suddenly knows all about Tweek’s intentions to get his tattoo.

“Where’d you hear that?” Clyde questions Token at the same time Craig blurts out “Red wouldn't date you,” in a harsh tone at Tweek before blinking and glancing down at his tray as if painfully aware of how much of a jerk he sounded.

“I mean, Tweek's not her type.” He mumbles, hiding his rising blush in a large bite.

Clyde smirks, “Oh yeah? Then whose type _is_ Tweek then? _Huh, Craig_?” He teases, leaning over the table, his left elbow landing dangerously close to Tokens mac and cheese. Craig flips Clyde off and Token mutters to himself as he scoots himself and his food out of the danger zone that is Clyde's immediate vicinity.

Tweek watches the interaction as he trades his fork for another baby carrot, shoving it between his lips and nibbling nervously. Craig glances at him as he chews before stubbornly shoving another massive bite into his mouth.

Tweek decides to show some mercy, “Of course she wouldn't,” he agrees, “I wouldn't date her either.” Then because now is as good a time as any he adds, “Kenny was just being an idiot and thought I wanted to hit on her, which I didn't. I did talk with her for a little bit though.”

Craig stops chewing, swallows, and watches him intently. “About what?” He asks and Tweek tries to imagine he’s reciting a script so his voice doesn't come out shaky when he answers him.

“Not much, class mostly, a little about her plans after graduation. Just small talk.” He claims. “Oh, and I agreed to help her with a graduation present for Mrs. Amard. I think she’s expecting me to help her after school today.” He slips the lie in casually without so much as a telling tic and barely refrains from proudly smiling at his own success.

Clyde sighs and rolls his eyes, unimpressed with Tweek's version of events but nevertheless resigned to believe them. Evaluating Craig's reaction from the corner of his eye Tweek takes a long drink of his milk and feels only slightly guilty when Craig looks assured, accepting the information with a nod, the fact Tweek would lie to him obviously not even crossing his mind.

Token nods also, “Guess you won't be over for dinner and a movie tonight?” He asks. “I was able to rent that new movie we were trying to remember the title to yesterday.” He says and Tweek frowns at the realization.

“We can always reschedule,” Craig says without looking up, a perfect depiction of nonchalance. Knowing how much he wants to watch the movie Tweek takes the fact he’s willing to wait in order for Tweek to join them as a compliment.

He tries to figure how long it might take, including inconveniences to the schedule but barring any horrific accidents that might occur. He did really want to see the movie too, he also didn’t want to make the rest of the guys wait on his behalf, and he did tell his mom he’d figure out his own dinner plans. Wondering how hard it might be to hide his new ink he remembers the visibility of Craig's protective plastic and chews on his lip, finding himself subconsciously pulling at his left sleeve.  Forcing himself not to jerk his hand away and draw attention to the nervous tell he clears his throat.  

 

“Actually I might,” he speaks up, blinking out of his thoughts and glancing around the table, “I'm not sure how long it’ll take but I doubt it'll take all afternoon.”

“Sweet,” Clyde says, “But if you're not there by seven I'm eating your share of the pizza, I don't care what Craig threatens me with.” Token snorts around the straw in his mouth and Craig lifts up his middle finger.

“I’ll text if it gets too late.” Tweek assures and Clyde mumbles under his breath. Token rolls his eyes.

“If you’re gonna be like that I’ll refuse to order pizza. You’ll have to go just as hungry as Tweek will.” Token declares and Clyde’s face drops.

“No you wouldn’t, you wouldn’t do that to me, you like me too much.” Clyde protests, though doubt twists his lips into a pouty frown as he settles solemnly in his seat. “I’m too annoying when I’m hungry to successfully starve.” He adds. Token pulls away from his drink and levels the brunette with a sweet smile.

“Fine, you can eat. But you have to call the place and order the pizza yourself.” He says with a seemingly indifferent shrug. Clyde’s eyes widen dramatically in worry and Token laughs.

Resting his chin in his palm Tweek curls his fingers up over his smile as the pleading begs starts up, his friends playfully bantering the direction of the conversation into familiar territory.

A soft snort distracts his attention away from the dramatics and he finds Craig laughing into his palm at whatever Clyde is saying. As if sensing Tweeks eyes on him he looks over, their eye contact lingering as Craig’s muffled laugh quiets, his hand slowly moving away from his mouth to cup his cheek. There’s an amused twinkle in his eyes even as his expression slips into something softer.

Tweek can’t help that his smile grows under the gaze, he just lets his shoulders go soft as he relaxes under it and refuses to look away first, a sense of calmness warming him up. Next to them Token continues to casually egg Clyde’s antics on and Tweek basks in the normalcy of it, the comfort of it. He lets out a silent sigh of contentment, his smile managing to widen even further.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I said in another fic I did, which is why I didn't exclusively point it out here, that I imagine Tweek can button up his shirts just fine by the time he's a teen as long as he's not stressed or under pressure. Only he doesn't care enough to bother doing his shirt up right as he's a messy person anyways and this is why him actually having his buttons done nicely makes it seem like somethings up, like he put effort into trying to impress someone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm [Kitschdemotic](http://kitschdemotic.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> This story is Creek, I try to leave any other friendships/relationships are left up to interpretation.  
> Shout out to [letgoofmygreggo](http://letgoofmygreggo.tumblr.com/) for helping Beta this work.  
>  
> 
> [See Craig's tattoo](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/b1/59/74/b15974dac5826c565dd7c58901aef356.jpg)

Chapter 4

 

 

After lunch Tweek feels more confident through his afternoon classes.

Fifth hour was Applied Chemistry where he got to sit beside Craig at a lab table and they alternated between playing go fish and old maid with Kevin and Bebe while a substitute teacher ignored the class. Then he walked to Geometry with Craig where they again paired up to chat about pointless things while “looking productive” as per Mr. Arctan's requirement. When the class is over he walks Craig to Photography III rather than heading straight to Calculus II, stopping by Mrs. Amard's room room for coffee and making it to class seconds before the tardy bell.

He doesn’t bother taking a seat, going straight for Ms. Mathes and cajoling her into letting him spend the hour in the library until the final bell of the day rings instead. Once in the library he only manages to pretend to peruse the books for twenty minutes before he moves to the computers, pulling up google and doing a discreet search on the tattooing process. He’s just finished reading an indepth article about tattoo aftercare and somehow clicked onto a slideshow about tattoo fails when the bell rings. He jumps out of his seat fast enough to make his chair crash backwards into the table behind him. He ignores the librarians glare and clicks out of the tabs in record speed before slipping into the rush of the hall.

When he makes it to the lockers Craig is already waiting with Token who taps away at his phone as Tweek walks up. Craig greets him with a small nod and Tweek tries not to fidget as the anticipation starts to build in his chest for what he’s about to go do.

“So you’re only helping Red for a few hours today, right?” Craig asks him and Tweek glances over his shoulder with a nod while attempting to squeeze his binder back into the mess of his locker since he doesn’t need to bring it home. “Cool.” Craig says, nodding to himself and pulling out his phone as they patiently wait for Clyde to make his way across the school from his weights class.

Just as Tweek manages to wedge the door shut he hears Clyde’s voice shout something down the hall at them and leans towards Craig to glance nosily at his phone. 

“Looks like they worked out in the field today.” Token comments. Still in his gym clothes Clyde is covered in a thin sheen of sweat and grass stains. Not wanting to be late meeting Red, Tweek starts backing up in the direction of the auditorium where he’s expected to meet her.

“Well, I’ll see you guys later. Red will be mad if I’m late and I really don’t want to have to smell Clyde.” Then as an afterthought adds, “Please make sure he showers before I get there.” Token lets out an amused puff of air and mutters that they can only try.

“Text me?” Craig looks up from his phone to ask. Continuing his backwards trek, steadily making his way down the hall, Tweek nods.

“As if he wouldn’t.” Token jibes, ignoring Craig’s middle finger in favor of turning back to his own phone. Tweek throws an assuring smile Craig’s way before he turns and pushes through the crowd.

He heads passed the auditorium, past the door to Mrs. Amard’s classroom, and glancing nervously over his shoulder stops in front of the door to the rarely used exit on the side of the school. When he’s sure no one will notice he pushes his way through it, out into the small section of asphalt allotted to overflow parking. He shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunched as he hurries around the building.

In the shadows between the cafeteria’s emergency exit and the loading doors there’s the dark figure of a student leaning against the wall, smoke drifting up from the cigarette between his fingers and for a terrifying second Tweek thinks it’s Craig, somehow managing to get there ahead of him in order to call him out on everything. He sucks in a nervous breath, holding it in as he forces his feet to keep moving.

The figure starts to make a clearer shape as Tweek approaches and he exhales, breath coming out in a shaky woosh of air. The guy's hair is dark but brown, messy and free of a hat. The style of clothes is completely wrong and too dirty, his height too short to even be confused with Craig. Shaking his head at himself he walks up to the other teen, lifting a hand in greeting. He gets muttered French in response.

Pulling a thumb out of his pocket he chews on the cuticle, unsure of what to say. Christophe didn't talk to more than a small bubble of chosen people, and although that sometimes included Craig it rarely stretched to also encompass Tweek as well.

He checks the time, eight minutes since the final bell. The thought that he might have been too late, that she had decided he wasn't worth the effort and had just left without him, attacks his mind and he feels himself physically flinching in response to it.

Scouting the area for any sign of Red or her car he notices another recognizable smoking figure clad in black, sitting on a small heap of cinder blocks farther down the side of the building, that clearly isn't Craig.

He tries to smile at the Frenchman as he moves to wait by Pete instead but it comes out as more of a nervous grimace when Christophe settles a level glare on him. Hoping it’s nothing to take personal, just a resting bitch face, Tweek hurries onward before he can find out if he’d done something to anger the dangerously skilled teen.

The goth sitting alone is less intimidating than when he’s with his friends, not that Tweek hasn't interacted enough with them as a group to still feel nervous. They were regulars at the coffee shop, often stopping by for to go cups and hanging out in the corner when Benny’s was too packed for them to be given satisfactory service.

Tweek hadn't actually got to know Pete individually until the goth had taken Drama the previous two years as an easy couple filler credits. With the free unlimited coffee and simple work as a stagehand where dressing in black was a requirement, Pete hadn’t actually hated his time in the class. Both preferred to stay away from the social circles of the other students, and they'd run into each other on their necessary trips to the coffee maker enough times a friendship had eventually started.

This year in order for Pete to graduate he had to concentrate on making up the mandatory core credits he’d previously failed. Tweek missed the morning company, the daily conversations they’d had, whispered secrets over coffee shared behind copies of scripts like mini therapy sessions.

“Hey.” He says when he’s standing beside the teen. He thinks of all the ways he could blurt out his most recent secrets, fears, excitement.

“Hey.” The goth says back with an uncharacteristically public smile, twisting a finger idly in the fading red on the crown of his head where his roots were starting to grow in.

Tweek doesn't get the chance to catch up with him, to spill his secret plans that only Red is in on. A battered black truck pulls up before he can say anything else and Pete gives him a wave, shrugging a book bag over his shoulder and climbing in.

Tweek watches the goth behind the wheel lean unabashedly over into Pete’s personal space, smothering his mouth in a swiftly sufficient but nonetheless passionate kiss in leeway of a hello. He wonders when that happened, when Pete had managed to get what he wanted from his friend and why he hadn't been told, why he hadn't noticed. He tries not to feel disappointed, jealous of pete’s happiness and luck.

The taller goth, Michael, looks older in a way that makes Tweek aware of how much time passes without you taking notice. His dark mass of curls are outgrown and in need of a cut and Tweek becomes distracted by the way the younger goth reaches up to adjust the strands falling in across his eyes for him.

He’s so busy watching the couple exchange soft words that he doesn't notice Red pull up a few feet away until she lays on the horn, the long honk pulling him out of his staring.

He wastes no time climbing into Red’s passenger seat, not daring to glance back and see if they'd managed to attract the goths attention away from each other.

“You ready?” She asks, already pulling away from the curb before Tweek can wrangle his seat belt into the buckle.

“I thought you might have left already, you made it seem like we needed to leave right away.” He confesses, gripping the belt tightly as she picks up speed.

She smirks, “Nah, I just didn't want you to keep me waiting by allowing you time to get cold feet.” She scoffs. “We do need to make good time though.” She adds a bit more thoughtfully, reaching between them to dig around in her purse while applying more pressure to the gas. Tweek's grip on the polyester seat belt grows sweaty. Locating her sunglasses she uses both hands to open and place them on her face before taking hold of the wheel just in time to take a sharp turn. He figures silently to himself that if he can survive the car ride there he can easily handle something much less scary like getting an actual tattoo.

Too busy trying not to shriek in alarm every few seconds he barely remembers to slip down in his seat as inconspicuously as he can manage when they drive into South Park and pass the coffee shop and again when they pass by the various bus stops. The mall’s parking lot when they pull in is packed and by the time Red finds a spot to park she’s gone from cursing under her breath to screaming insults out the window at the groups of people loitering about. Their white shirts all sport similar messages and Tweek is reminded about the protest.

He follows Red's lead, exiting the car and heading for the malls main entrance. Keeping a diligent eye on the crowds he can feel a shiver sneak down his spine, triggering the tell tale beginnings of trembles in his fingers. He clenches his hands, breathes deeply. He’s almost got the physical manifestation of his anxiety under control when he spots his dad.

Shoving his fingers into his mouth to muffle a yelp he dives behind the nearest cover, watching his dad happily hand out many different orders. Red continues walking without him but he can’t risk calling out for her to stop, afraid his dad will recognize his voice over the chanting of the assembling protesters.

“Ugh, if I'm late because of these assholes I swear I’ll-” She pauses, looking around as she realizes the blonde’s not following her. “Tweek?” She asks, spotting the top of his messy head behind a minivan.

“I forgot you worked at the mall.” He manages to say, peering carefully over the hood.

“Okay?” She drawls out, clearly trying to piece together what that has to do with his odd behavior. She edges closer to him, moving into a half crouch beside him.

When he doesn’t answer right away she rests a concerned hand on his shoulder, “You okay?” She asks, “You look a bit pale.” He refrains from giving into his first reaction of shrugging out from under her touch. “Well, paler than usual.” She amends.

Glancing away from his dad long enough to read the genuine concern in her eyes he explains, “I lied to my parents to get out of work today, they can’t know I'm here.”

She nods sagely, “And where do they think you are?” She asks.

“Play practice.” He admits, feeling a shameful flush creep over his ears.

There’s a couple seconds of blank staring before she reacts. Tweek tries to stay equally expressionless but as soon as her composure cracks so does his. “And they believed you?” She gasps, eyebrows inching up her forehead and mouth dropping in shock. She looks flabbergasted when he nods and her expression flickers between shocked and disgustingly disappointed. He can’t quite figure out if the reaction is directed at him and his horrible implausible excuse or at his parents for buying it. Probably both.

Before he can respond properly in defense of himself or his mom she purses her lips and gives a derisive nod, tugging him up and out from the cover of the vehicle. He doesn't have time to protest as her hand moves from his shoulder to his hand, dragging him behind her fast enough that he almost trips over his own feet trying to keep up. She doesn't take them towards the main entrance closer to his distracted father, instead edging around the crowds to sneak in through an employee only door hidden in an alcove a bit away.

His heart thrums in his chest, his thigh tingling where he expects his cell to go off any second with his dad's angry voice demanding answers.

Red doesn't drop his hand or her quick pace until they’re through the luckily empty lobby and office and in the main hall of the mall. Straightening her purse across her shoulder and patting her hair into place she walks over to a storefront. He follows helplessly behind her, watching patiently as she uses the reflection in the glass to touch up her makeup.

His dad hasn't called, his heart is starting to calm down. He glances around his surroundings, finding it weird not to be here with one of the guys who requested he tag along, usually Craig. There's a surprising amount of kids and teens for it being Monday, but most are wearing white shirts so Tweek figures they were dragged along by their parents and had wandered off to shop and hang out. He can see where the crowd thickens again farther down the hall where Hobby Lobby had opened.

He’s turning to look back at Red when a sign catches his eye, the picture of a dragon twisting around the shops name. His heart jumps in his chest, feeling light and floaty. He swallows his excitement down.

“You nervous?” Red asks, her breath tickling his ear as she leans over his shoulder, grinning when he lets out a started noise and jumps at being startled. He looks away from the tattoo studio to give her a halfhearted glare for sneaking up on him but a quick glance at his wrist has a grin possessing his mouth.

“Excited.” He mumbles, trying not to sound as pathetically eager or anxious as he feels.

“Well come on then.” She says giving him a friendly push to get him moving.

He starts walking, but slow enough to fall behind her when they get to the door, letting her take the lead.

A skinny man with a bald head and gauges in his ears waves to her when they enter and she waves back. It’s not until they're almost through the small lobby that the man turns back to his magazine and Tweek notice the large eye inked across the majority of his head.

“That’s Allen, but his friends call him Alien.” She says when they're across the room.

“Because of the head tattoo?” He asks in a cautious whisper, afraid of being rude.

She grins and shakes her head, “Because his dad’s first language isn’t English so when he filled out the birth certificate info the nurses read it as A-L-I-en instead of A-L-L-en and filed it into the computer's wrong.”

Tweek doesn’t ask any follow up questions, just silently sympathizes with the stranger while reflecting back on the confused mishap in communication at his own birth regarding the spelling of their family’s last name. The result had been his own birth certificate being filed declaring him Tweek Tweak; He’s almost positive he doesn’t even have a middle name.

Before he can start to obsess over the fact that he really should double check his birth certificate, find out if he’s been incorrectly filling out official documents by leaving the spot for his middle initial blank, he realizes that Red has lead him to a boxed in area and is directing him to sit on a chair that looks like a computer chair and chaise lounge had a furniture love child. He obeys, feeling awkward as he tries to stay relaxed while feeling out of place. Unsure of what to do with his hands he pulls at his fingers, his knuckles popping obscenely loud in the quiet space between them.

He tries not to focus on the counters, the equipment and pictures around him, and watches her move a few things around before turning on her heel and walking out without a word. He tries not to tense up. Not wanting to appear too nervous or nosy by standing up to see over the half walls to watch her he instead listens to the dull buzz of a distant needle start up farther back in the studio and tries to make out pieces of Red's conversation a short distance away.

When she returns there’s a larger man in his late forties hovering behind her and she hands Tweek a couple pieces of paper and a pen before introducing the new stranger as her boss and mentor.

“So this is the family friend you came in a whole hour early to work on, huh?” The burly man asks,  a slight Russian growl to his accent.

 

Tweek wonders if "family friend" had been her exact words, wonders if she really thinks of him as a friend to her and her family and not just a classmate. He supposes it’s technically true with how he's her cousin's best friend but it still makes him feel pleased with the confirmation that he’s close enough to Craig at this point to be considered a friend to the whole family.

“Yup, this is Tweek, Tweek this is Flarik.” Red says as she starts sifting through a stack of images and Tweek snaps out of his head space to nod a sufficient hello.

“Nice to meet you,” Flarik says, “I will be sitting over here evaluating Red, do not mind me. I am mostly here for when something goes wrong.” Tweek tries not to fidget at the prospect of the whole process being watched, and swallows nervously at the thought of anything going wrong. He directs concerned side eyes at Red who huffs.

“Nothing is going to go wrong and you know that! Stop scaring my customers and work on your paperwork.” She complains, hands flying to her hips. She looks directly at Tweek, “He said the same thing to Craig, don’t worry.” She tells him, attempting to cut any growing panic off. He feels a bit better when Flarik laughs, taking a seat in the far corner and slipping on a thin pair of reading glasses before turning his attention to a stack of papers.

“I just need you to fill those out, name and age and legal technicalities, that sort of stuff,” she tells him and he glances over the text, “Then I’ll run a razor over the spot to get rid of any unwanted hairs.” He shakes his head, looking up at her.

“No need.” He tries to tell her.

She continues pulling out a cheap disposable razor anyway. “I know you’re not a very hairy guy but even the finest of hairs can get in the way and-”

“No,” he interrupts, “I mean, I know. Just, there’s no need. It’s already bare, I shaved this morning.”

“You shaved your wrists already? Eager much?” She teases and he rubs at his bare wrist, blushing.

“It’s not like that.” He admits, glancing away from her in embarrassment, “I just don’t like having body hair.” Risking a look at Flarik he’s relieved to see the man not show any sign of paying attention.

Red quirks an eyebrow at him, lips twitching, but otherwise doesn’t comment on the information, dropping the unopened razor back into its drawer. “Okay. Let me just run Craig’s tattoo design through the thermal copier and get that stencil made up.” She says, moving to a different section of counter and doing something out of his line of sight. He turns back to the papers, completing them quickly with as neat of a hand as he can manage while using his knee as a writing surface.

Leaning his head against the headrest as he waits he stares up at the pristine white of the ceiling panels and listens to the sound of rustling paper, and the beeps and whirring of the machine. Only a couple minutes later she’s rolling towards him in a chair, a small piece of paper in hand.

“Wrist.” She states holding a palm out expectantly. Dropping his left wrist into her grip he watches as she reaches to the small metal tray beside her for an alcohol wipe and rubs down his wrist. He ignores her mumble of “Wow, that _is_ ridiculously smooth,” and watches as she disposes of the swab, reaching next for an ointment.

“Are you sure hair even grows here at all?” She asks louder, grabbing the stencil carefully with both hands. Tweek takes a note from Craig's book and decides not to comment, pretends not to have heard her despite his right hand lifting to flip her off.

Humming in amusement she glances between his wrist and a photo on the tray that Tweek is just now noticing. “I’m going to apply the stencil now, your wrist is shaped slightly different than his, but I should be able to get it in the near identical location without wanting to adjust the stencils size at all.” She explains, “It’ll be an exact replica to Craigs. Okay?”

His heart starts beating faster and he nods, trying to keep his breathing even and muscles from tensing. Her pink tongue sticks out the corner of her mouth as she concentrates, similar to how Craig does and Tweek wonders if that’s a coincidence or a familial trait. He barely notices her applying the image until she’s carefully peeling the paper back and reaching for the picture of Craig’s tattoo to bring closer to compare.

“That looks great.” He says in awe and she beams. Dark blue lines stand out against his pale skin, looking perfect.

“Just wait until it’s permanent.” She says through a confident grin, “I’m taking it you’re happy with the placement? It doesn’t look odd to you?” She asks and he leans closer to examine each line.

“No, it looks perfect,” He declares, then hesitates, “Unless you see something wrong with it? Do you think it looks odd?” He frets, tilting his head and squinting his eyes, trying to see a flaw.

“No, I don’t. Now lean back out of my way.” She bosses, gently pushing his chest until he relaxes back into the seat. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, unable to keep a giddy smile from creeping over his face.

He can hear the sound of her latex gloves snapping in place as she adjusts them, the sound of the ink splashing inside a bottle as she pours it into the disposable plastic cap she’d previously set out. Wrappers crinkle and metal clack as she removes sterilized needles from packages and readies her ink gun for the job.

“I’m about to start now,” She says after a bit and he opens an eye to peek at her. “It shouldn’t take very long at all, though I’m going to take my time to keep it as precise as possible and I’ll pause often to check my progress. Speak up if you need me to stop for any reason and I will.” He nods, fingers clenching and unclenching.

“Try to relax,” She instructs, “And don’t forget to breathe, I really don’t need you passing out on me.”

“Yeah, I will. I’m fine.” He insists, closing his eyes and wiggling the wrist in her grasp impatiently. She smacks his fingers and he purposely focuses on relaxing, attempting to center himself with meditating breaths. He listens as she slips a paper towel over the arm of the chair and arranges his wrist on top of it, spreading a thin layer of ointment over the skin once more.

He flinches at the first sound of the gun buzzing to life but relaxes again before it actually touches his skin. A pinching burn starts up out of nowhere as the needles bite into his wrist. He hisses under his breath as he adjusts to the sensation, tries to guess which line she’s doing. The pressure lets up and he feels her wiping away the excess ink.

He pieces the image together in his mind as best he can by sense of feel as she inks in the first star, one little line at a time. She scratches on with steady precision as she draws in his skin with the needles. If he didn't know better he’d think she was trying to force the ink out of a sharp empty pen, relentlessly trying to scribble each line into existence.

On another pause she wipes at her work again and reapplies a dab of ointment before making a couple short added touches.

“One star down.” She announces, and he opens his eyes to look but her head is still bent and obstructs his view. He’s not sure it’s even been a full minute yet.

She moves onto the second star, The repeated burn reminding him of a cat scratching him and he amuses himself with the idea of a cat dipping its claws into a cap of ink and scratching away a masterpiece into someone's skin. The second star takes a similar amount of time, and the pattern repeats for the third.

When she starts on Saturn the pain is more of a background annoyance as he stares at the pieces of his new ink that he can see. When she adds the final touch and puts down the gun he barely waits for her to wipe away the excess ink before he’s bringing it close to his face for a proper examination.

“Cool, that only took six minutes, a little longer than Craig’s but not by much.” She says after glancing at the time.

 

She reaches forward to gently pull his wrist back over to her, using a wet paper towel to clean the area before applying a new layer of ointment.

“It’s a very simple tat, small, shouldn't give you much problems in healing. I'm just going to tape on some plastic, you shouldn't need gauze.” She says, already preparing the protective wrap.

“Can you make it small? And tight enough to go unnoticed under my sleeve?” He asks imploringly, hopeful. She blinks, “Yeah, I guess.” She says, cutting the strip of plastic down in size before carefully wrapping his wrist and using a couple small strips of medical tape to secure it down.  

He holds the freshly wrapped ink up, examining the way the shine of ointment and plastic play off the light, still trying to process how very real this is.

“Good work. Clean lines.” A deep voice says, mere inches away from Tweek's face causing him to jump in his seat in surprise since he’d almost forgotten about anyone else being in the room and hadn't heard the other man move in so close.

Flarik chuckles at the reaction, removing his reading glasses and turning to collect his papers, including the ones Tweek had filled out and set aside. He reaches behind Red as she starts to clean up after herself, plucking a sheet of paper out of an open drawer and gesturing it at Tweek to take.

“That is a copy of after care instructions. Read it, take it home.” The older man tells him once he’s accepted the paper and then leaves without further comment.

Tweek folds the paper up small, pulling his wallet out to store it in before getting absorbed once more in the comfort of Craig's doodle etched into his skin. Once the area is mostly cleaned and set back in order Red pulls off the gloves, tossing them into the trash with an added flourish.

“I have to be here till 6, but I can take a break at 4:30 if you need a ride home.” She offers when she turns back to him. He finally looks up from his tattoo, tilting his head up in order to meet her eyes.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” He says, even as he’s trying to figure out if there's anyone he hasn't lied to that he can call for a ride instead, “I can wait.” He considers walking rather than resorting to the offer. Contemplating her less than safe driving makes him suddenly grateful that despite all the Red Racer Craig watches he’s never felt the need to be such a reckless speed demon.

“But uh, actually could you take me to Token’s instead?” He asks, standing up and stretching his arms over his head.

“Sure.” She replies but the mirror by the door reflects the dark lines on his wrist and he barely notices, an instantaneous grin splitting across his face.

“Thanks again.” He says as he moves his wrist around, watching the very real new part of him move with him in the reflection.

She smiles, clearly entirely pleased with his reaction to her work. “No problem. Now why don’t you go wait in like, the food court, or something.” She suggests with a flippant wave of her hand.

He nods, turns to leave but stops when she reaches forward to snag his non tattooed wrist. “Wait, here.” She says, grabbing a pen with her free hand and using her mouth to pull off the lid. He watches her scribble out a chain of numbers in the space between the base of his thumb and the back of his wrist.

“Call me if you're somewhere else at 4:30 so I don't have to chase your ass down through that mob.” She instructs him and he nods.

As he’s walking out he shares a nod with Flarik and Allen, nervously passing them by the front desk and hoping Red had taken care of the payment details. They don't attempt to stop him so he easily slips out of the shop, heading distractedly towards the food court in lack of anything else to do.

He circles the food court for a good ten minutes before stopping beside the pretzel stand for another twenty, honestly considering ordering one just because of it being Craig’s go to mall food. He doesn't get the chance before he hears his name being called and freezes, suddenly terrifyingly reminded that he’s supposed to be keeping a low profile.

Glancing around he quickly locates the source of the call, gesturing widely and making a frantic shushing noise to try and deter it. Karen doesn't seem to notice or care, because she shouts his name a couple extra times for good measure as she drags Ruby across the food court towards him. He eyes the people around them nervously, afraid to spot his dad and not caring for the amount of odd looks they're attracting.

Slipping away from the line he’d been loitering around he moves to wait for the inevitable interaction by the far wall. In the middle of trying to come up with an excuse as to why he’s at the mall he remembers why he really is there and scrambles to secure his sleeve over the tightly wrapped wrist. A few seconds later the tween girls emerge from the crowd.

“Hey Tweek!” The young McCormick greets loudly, full of friendly cheer. Her smile looking exceptionally bright in comparison to her friend's bored demeanor.

“Hey Karen, Ruby.” He greets, pulling nervously as his left sleeve.

“Crazy protest going on today, Mrs. Broflovski has already set like four different items on fire.” She says excitedly.

He blinks, “Really?” He asks.

“It was pretty cool.” Ruby says with a nod.

“Yeah.” Karen agrees, inching closer. “What’re you up to?” She asks, head cocking curiously to the side and her lashes fluttering. She standing closer then he finds comfortable and he attempts to step away but his back comes in rough contact with the wall.

He wonders if maybe Craig had a point when he’d claimed the young girl had a crush on him, considers that maybe the free hot chocolates he made an effort of giving her and Kenny might be a contributing factor.

He shrugs, “Oh, I was just-”

“Where's Craig?” Ruby interrupts him to ask and Tweek tries not to stutter nervously.

“Um, he-uh, at Token’s I think?” He answers and tries to hide his reflective wince at the way her eyes narrow.

“You think?” She presses. Tweek's almost positive he’s not imagining her suspicion.

“Yeah?” He says, wise enough not to try lying to her.

“Come on Ruby, stop giving him a hard time. They don't have to be together all the time.” Karen says and Tweek can't help but feel relief when Ruby finally looks away from him to smirk at her friend.

“I don't know Karen, doesn't mean they don't try to be though.”

Before Tweek can think about the comment his phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out to see a new message from Craig. Ruby and Karen peer over at his phone nosily.

“Told you.” Ruby mutters, elbowing Karen in the ribs.

He lifts his phone out from their line of vision and opens the text.

_Clyde’s singing off key karaoke and Token’s letting him._

Tweek smiles at the image, knowing first hand how awful that torture can be.

_Is his body odor still off key as well?_ He types, hits send. Almost instantaneously he gets a reply.

_No, thank god._ And then another, _The bribery of karaoke is how we got him to shower._

Tweek laughs, _Your mistake then_ he texts.

“What?” Karen asks, leaning on her tiptoes to try and take a peek at the screen, curious to see what had made him laugh.

Turning away from her prying eyes he holds the phone closer to himself to read the newest text.

_Wish you were here already_ , It reads. Tweek blinks.

Swallowing thickly he rereads the five words over, unsure of what to say. He wishes he was there already too.

“I'm hungry.” Karen suddenly states, obviously growing bored of Tweek's lack of interaction and Ruby dutifully pulls her away back towards the food.

“Bye Tweek!” Karen calls behind her as she’s dragged away by her hand.

Quickly looking up in fear that his dad will suddenly pop out at the mention of his name he catches sight of the middle finger Ruby throws over her shoulder at him. He shakes his head fondly at the younger Tucker's antics and turns back to his text conversation with her brother. The phone buzzes in his tight grip.

_Hurry up and come back to me._

He decides not to reply.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Allen/Alien name confusion was based on a friend I had named Moira who was supposed to have been Maria. Also a lead in to a throwaway explanation for Tweek's ridiculous given name that's not just "His parents named him after the family name." (cause that seems like the excise you tell people to make your/your kid's name sound less ridiculous)
> 
> I named Flarik after an actual German tattoo artist. Check out his work [HERE](https://www.instagram.com/flariktattooer/)
> 
> As for naming the teachers:  
> Mrs. Amard - Drama spelt backwards.  
> Mr. Focker - Easily exchangeable with the moniker Fucker.  
> Mr. Arctan - Arctan is stolen from a list of Geometry terms.  
> Ms. Mathes - A real last name chosen solely because she’s a math teacher.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm [Kitschdemotic](http://kitschdemotic.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> This story is Creek, I try to leave any other friendships/relationships are left up to interpretation.  
> Shout out to [letgoofmygreggo](http://letgoofmygreggo.tumblr.com/) for helping Beta this work.
> 
> [See Craig's tattoo](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/b1/59/74/b15974dac5826c565dd7c58901aef356.jpg)

Chapter 5

  
  


He stares at his phone for a longer amount of time than he’d like to admit, only moving away from his spot against the wall when the smell of the trash cans a few feet away start to make him nauseous. Or maybe it’s the way he feels like slapping himself and pulling at his hair because he must be reading into things.

Craig didn't mean he wanted him personally, he meant he wanted Tweek to come back to him and the guys. There wasn't any reason to read into things, Craig didn't really miss him, definitely not because he _liked him_ , that would be ridiculous Tweek reasons. Of course Craig wanted him there, they were best friends and if he was there they could all watch the movie and order food and not have to suffer through Clyde's rendition of the soundtrack to the musical Grease.

_Hurry up and come back to me._

The words still glare at him from his phone screen and he can't help the frustrated sounds that bubble up from his throat.

_Come back to me._

Tweek rereads the words for the umpteenth time.

_Back to me._

He clicks away from the message and shoves his phone deep into his pocket.

What if Craig had written "Me" purposely, with intent. What if he _had_ meant he missed Tweek personally because he genuinely enjoyed Tweek's presence enough to want to be with him as often as he could? What if Craig liked- _no_ , thinks Tweek, If Craig had liked him he would of made it clear already. He would've said something, he would've made a move, and surely he wouldn't be so completely fine with moving somewhere Tweek isn't. He wouldn't have pushed Tweek to apply for a college that he himself wasn't even going to try getting into.

Tweek sighs.

His feet lead him back to Red’s work and he takes a seat in the lobby, staring curiously at the different styles of art adorning the walls. By the time Red comes out, purse slung over her shoulder and keys in her hand he’s managed to torture himself with thoughts of the imminent future. The reminder hanging over his head that once they're all in different colleges they’ll go much longer than a few hours apart at a time and soon after Craig will grow accustomed to it and stop craving his company. Craig will be happy creating a new life away from South Park though so Tweek convinces himself the thought isn't completely sad in the end, just bittersweet.

Red takes one look at him as he stands to exit the shop with her and frowns.

“Who stole your lollipop and ate it?” She asks. He doesn't answer, just shrugs.

Her expression clearly says his reply is not acceptable but she doesn't push it. She does make a detour by the food court and orders two of the crappy low quality mocha frappes served there, shoving one into his hand with a soft wink. He doesn't refuse or question it, getting the impression he’d just been treated to a personalized form of comfort food. Sipping at the drink he follows her out to the car, still weary of being seen but feeling decidedly better than minutes before.

“Still feeling good about your ink?” Red asks him when they’re pulling out onto the street.

“Very.” He says without hesitation. Even if Craig gets used to a life without him Tweek will always have that piece of Craig to remember him by. The thought brings the large smile back to his lips.

He almost feels too satisfied to worry about the way Red never pulls to a complete rest at the stop signs.

The Black’s property is gated, so Tweek has Red drop him off before pressing the buzzer and waiting to be allowed access. Almost instantly the gate opens for him and he starts the walk up the long driveway, tugging nervously at his sleeve.

Token is waiting for him by the front door, holding a tray with hot drinks and marshmallows.

“Thank God you're here.” Token says as soon as he’s in ear shot.

“Why, is Clyde still singing?” He asks, peering behind his friend as if he could see the game room from the front hall.

“No, thankfully he traded in karaoke for a bonfire.” He tells him. “But now he’s moved on to eating the marshmallows faster than we can roast them and Craig's being all mopey.”

Tweek smiles at the imagery and trails Token around the side of the house into the back yard.

“I didn't think Craig liked Marshmallows enough to care.” He comments and the look Token shoots him over his shoulder like he’s being particularly dense makes his stomach flip.

“That's not why he’s been moping.” Token says flatly, the _and you should know that_ left unsaid yet clearly implied. Tweek's stomach tries to cartwheel and he struggles not to react, feeling confused, the ball of emotional frustration from earlier simmering in his chest like heartburn.

The sun is still out but the sky is heavy with dark clouds moving in, bringing a nippy chill to the air. The fire pit is going good, flames licking up against the occasional breeze. On one side of the pit sitting on a short bench and staring into his phone is Craig, on the other side of the fire in a classy metal lawn chair is Clyde, spread out casually and wearing a pair of obnoxious sunglasses while licking lazily at the stringy globs of fluff clinging to his fingers.

“Honey, he’s home!” Token calls out jokingly as they approach and both guys look up.

Right away Clyde gives him a cheerful wave, happily smiling in greeting before exclaiming, “Oh thank God!”

In the back of his mind the comment is noted, filed away next to Tokens insinuations, his attention drawn to the way Craig physically perked up. His stare shooting away from his phone to Tweek, eyes displaying a varying array of emotions going from excited to confused, to disappointed and back to happy all so fast Tweek questions if he’d interpreted any of them correctly at all.

“Finally.” Craig says offhandedly, shoulders squaring as he leans back in his seat. Then to Token, “Did you bring more marshmallows?”  He asks.

“Of course,” Token replies, handing Craig a mug of hot chocolate before doing the same for Clyde, “But this is the last of them so we may want to order the pizza now.”

“Pizza. Pizza. Pizza. Pizza.” Clyde starts chanting under his breath, words slurring into a hum as he slurps his sticky fingers back into his mouth.

They collectively watch him for a minute in slightly disgusted amusement until finally Token slowly turns back to Tweek, “Want me to go grab you a coffee?” He asks.

Raising his plastic cup of the iced drink in explanation he declines the offer with a shake of his head, moving to fit into the narrow empty space beside Craig. Token nods, places the serving tray with the marshmallows on the little table between his and Tweek's seats and grabs for a skewering rod.

There’s the tell tale sound of Craig’s phone locking before an arm is suddenly brushing across Tweek's chest causing him to chirp in startled alarm. Craig pauses in his quest for a marshmallow to quirk an amused eyebrow at him and Tweek refuses to be embarrassed. Maintaining eye contact until Craig moves to finish reaching across him, only looking away when Craig finally pulls back into his own arm space.

Tweek watches Craig pick up his own skewer, spiking a couple marshmallows on to be roasted.

“You buzzed at the perfect time, I was just exiting the kitchen, a few minutes later and I wouldn't have known to let you in.” Token comments.

“We thought you’d text when you were going to be here.” Craig elaborates. Something in his tone makes Tweek think of the way Craig had been watching his phone and he wants to apologize despite not really needing to.

He stares at the embers burning at the edge of the fire and thinks about how he couldn't bring himself to text Craig back because he hadn't been sure what to say.

“Hey Craig?” He asks instead, evading the comment. He pulls on the sleeves of his shirt, hunching his shoulders to help the material stretch far enough down. Craig looks up at him.

“Can I wear your jacket?” Tweek asks through a single exhale before he can doubt himself.

The slow smile that spreads across Craig’s lips makes him visibly shiver. Craig must take it as proof Tweek’s actually cold enough for once to need the extra layer more than himself because he sets his skewer aside and shrugs out of his jacket without further hesitation.

Tweek holds out a hand to accept the proffered material but Craig doesn't hand it over, instead he wraps it across Tweek's back and over his shoulders. Instant warmth cocoons him and he lets himself indulge in the leftover heat from Craig's body, working his arms in the sleeves and feeling better once his wrist is safely hidden under the extra coverage.

Craig places his skewer back into the fire and together they watch the white of the marshmallows slowly turn a crispy black.

“Thanks.” Tweek says, despite not needing to. Craig glances at him through the corner of his eye, smile still in place, and leans in to nudge their shoulders together.

“If you weren't drinking iced coffee you probably wouldn't even feel cold.” Craig teases. “Right?”

Tweek smiles and gives a little shrug, tugging the jacket tighter around himself he takes a long deliberate drink from his frappe and side eyes Craig back with exaggerated defiance. Craig laughs, low and quiet in his throat.

Tweek doesn't feel the need to tell Craig he’s wrong, to admit he’s not more susceptible to the cold than usual because of his less common choice of beverage. He feels an almost inappropriate thrill from the secret of possessing the same tattoo as Craig. He barely resists the urge to touch at his wrist, to take a peek and assure himself it's still really there. An almost equal amount of worried guilt accompanies the small rush the secrecy creates but he clamps a tight lid on it, determined not to second guess his coping method for the eventuality of losing Craig.

Craig pulls the skewer from the flames, blowing on the burnt marshmallows before carefully sliding them one at a time off and into his mouth before they can make a gooey mess out of his hands and face. Tweek watches the meticulous process, thankful for the close heat of the fire and the flames glow helping disguise the rising heat he feels creeping over his skin at the way Craig efficiently licks and sucks the sweet fluff off his fingers.

“Token! Please!” Clyde cries, and Tweek looks over to see him refusing to take the phone Tokens trying to shove into his sticky fingers.

“You can do it Clyde, I know you’ve made calls to strangers on your own lots of times.” Token says, setting the phone on Clyde's lap before crossing his arms.

“But that’s only when I don't have you there to do it for me!” Clyde whines and Token rolls his eyes. Tweek turns back around from the scene to get a face full of camera.

Letting out a startled gasp, he curses under his breath when he hears Craig’s laugh at his surprise. The little snorts that escape Craig making it impossible for him to stay annoyed despite noticing Craig’s finger still repeatedly pressing down on the capture button. Smacking Craig's arm he fights back a smile of his own in the face of Craig's amusement.

“What are you doing taking pictures of me?” He asks, eyeing the expensive black camera Craig had spent forever saving up for, “I thought that was for taking pictures of the stars and stuff.”

Craig peeks over the top of the camera but doesn't stop taking pictures.

“I was planning on it,” he answers, then smirking adds, “And I am.”

Tweek pauses, brows furrowing in confusion as he shakes his head. “Last I checked I wasn't a fixed luminous point in the night sky, nor was I a large remote incandescent body like the sun.” He disagrees, watching Craig’s tongue sneak out to rest at the corner of his lips.

“I love it when you quote nerdy to me.” Craig jokes dryly with a delayed eyebrow waggle that has Tweek covering his mouth in an attempt not to laugh. “But if you want to play that way, then you did win Best Actor award in Drama club two years in a row. I think that counts as proof that you are an exceptionally talented performer, hence you are a star.”

Tweek opens his mouth to argue but Craig cradled his camera in his lap and holds up a finger and Tweek's eyes are drawn to the overly familiar ink below it on his wrist and the words fall short on his tongue.

“You’re a star Tweek, you belong immortalized in my camera just as much as Polaris or Betelgeuse, if not more. I-”

A long drawn out groan of ultimate despair interrupts Craig who turns to glare daggers at the Brown haired leech that had collapsed at his feet to claw pleadingly at his legs.

“Craaaiiiggg!” Clyde whines as Tweek struggles to swallow, his mouth feeling suddenly dry after Craig's interrupted flattery. _Probably for the best,_ he thinks, _I'd just read too much into whatever he said anyway_.

“Stop flirting and order pizza for me.” Clyde demands poorly, his face the epitome of pleading.

“No.” Craig flatly replies. Clyde whines again, whimpering against Craig's knees.

“But you make calls for Tweek all the time!” Clyde tries to reason. Craig just readjusts his camera's position, placing it securely back into it’s case.

“So?” He asks, voice completely deadpan as he settles the equipment case back by his feet. Tweek avoids looking directly at either of them, tilting his back to stare at the darkening sky as they share a mostly silent conversation punctuated with pouting, glaring, and Clyde's occasional whimpering. He wishes the stars were out already, and that the clouds weren't so thick so he could see them. He wishes he could look at the stars on his wrist until he could believe they were really there.

“Ugh, fine.” Craig eventually caves, holding out his hand. Clyde wastes no time happily shoving Tokens phone into his palm and Tweek looks back over to watch Craig as he dials the number and takes care of ordering their usual. He glances between Craig's soft unchapped lips and the phone, trying not to stare blatantly at his exposed tattoo.

Behind Clyde Token has started poking around the bonfire so Tweek focuses on him instead while Craig talks to the employee.

“Twenty minutes.” Craig says as he hangs up and Clyde takes the phone back with a cheerful thanks, bounding over to Token to return it and help clean up.

“The fire should burn out soon, the rain should help smother it too.” Token says, pointing up at the gathering storm clouds.

Clyde insists they move inside so they won't miss the delivery person's arrival in case he’s early so Tweek trails behind them as they make their way back inside to wait. Kicking his shoes off by the back door he leans on Craig for balance, his hand wrapping around Craig's bare bicep as he wobbles on one leg.

Token and Clyde wander off ahead of them, sock clad and debating the merits of starting the movie before or after the food arrived.

“How’d the gift making go?” Craig asks, easily toeing his own loosely tied sneakers off. Tweek lets go of his arm before his grip can reflexively tense when he meets Craig's gaze.

“It was alright,” he lies, “I think Mrs. Amard will like it.” He attempts to pull his second laced up shoe off without support and almost falls over.

“Why don't you untie them first?” Craig asks, and then before Tweek can answer also asks, “So what did you guys make her anyway?” Tweek gets his foot free and tries to think quick.

Shrugging he tosses his shoes by the others. He answers the second question, “Something sentimental, quotes and pictures and things.”

“Like a scrapbook?” Craig asks and Tweek just nods, an uncomfortable lump in his throat at lying to him.

They walk into the living room to find it empty, movie still in the case.

“Where did they get off to now?” Craig mutters to himself, setting his camera carefully next to his bag.

“Clyde's probably in the kitchen.” Tweek says, settling into one end of the couch and releasing the switch to extend the built in footrest. Stretching out his legs he gets comfortable, chewing on the straw of his empty drink as he wonders how Clyde can possibly stay so fit with how many carbs he packs on by the hour.

“I’ll throw that away for you,” Craig offers, reaching out for the cup. As Tweek hands over the trash Craig adds, “I’ll get you a mug of coffee while I’m checking the kitchen.” Tweek smiles and mumbles his thanks as Craig turns to leave.

He stares at the dark TV screen and wraps the jacket tighter around himself, reaches up the sleeve until his fingers brush the thin tightly wrapped plastic and the medical tape keeping it in place. A shiver of giddy happiness shoots up his spine causing his shoulders to shudder.

“Still cold?” Token suddenly asks, startling Tweek who hadn't noticed him entering the room.

“Agh, huh?” Tweek spits out, “No I'm okay.”

Quickly jerking his hand away he feels his fingers twitch as he tries to keep himself from smoothing the fabric back down around his wrist in a way that might give him away. He feels another shiver run through him, this one from his nerves being on edge.

Token frowns. “Are you okay?” He asks, taking his usual spot in the armchair. Tweek watches him and tries not to look as concerned about the question as he feels.

“What? Why?” He spits out, paranoia starting to itch at the back of his mind like a gross creepy bug he can't shake.

“You seem more susceptible to the cold than usual,” Token explains, “are you getting sick?” He asks.

Tweek blinks, “Sick?” He repeats. Did he look sick? Did Craig only lend him his jacket because he looked like crap? He thought he looked normal, did he always look like crap?

“Who's sick?” Craig's nasal voice cuts into the conversation and Tweek swivels his head around to face him.

“I asked Tweek if he thought he was getting sick. He seems cold, even with your jacket on.” Token explains, pulling the lever to recline his own seat back.

“Oh,” Craig says walking towards Tweek with a fresh mug of steaming coffee. “This should warm you back up.” He says, taking the seat beside him on the couch.

“I doubt you’re sick,” Craig tells him, wrapping a firm hand around Tweek's wrist as he hands the drink over, “so stop worrying about it, okay?”

Tweek nods, suddenly aware of how he’s trembling, his hands seeming to vibrate around the mug as he accepts it from Craig. Tweek is painfully aware of the fingers gripping only an inch above his plastic bandage.

“I'm not.” He says, eyes wide with worry that Craig will shift and discover his secret. Craig clearly doesn't believe him, the soothing grip staying put around his wrist as Tweek's subtle shaking subsides. “I'm not worried.” He insists. Craig ignores him, reaches behind him with his other arm to tug the throw blanket off the back of the couch to cover their laps with.

“Here, no way you’ll catch a cold now.” He says patting Tweek's knees through the blanket in satisfaction. “Not on my watch.”

Soft gagging makes Tweek glance away from Craigs sincere look and he sees Clyde walk in while pretending to stick a finger down his throat. “Ew, PDA much?” He teases, his other arm around a large bowl of popcorn. Plopping  down in front of the TV he sets the movie up in the player.

Token uses a fancy remote to dim the lights and rather than joining them on the couch Clyde spreads out across the plush carpet, hand already digging into the popcorn, impatient as ever for the main course.

They sit through the previews in relative silence, only speaking up to collectively decide if the movie will be any good based on its trailer. As if by perfect timing they hit the title screen just as Token gets a text alert that the delivery man is turning into their street.

Rather than get up himself Token pulls out his wallet, “Go get the pizza, I know you’re not that shy.” He says to Clyde.

“I'm that lazy though.” Clyde pouts, “Make one of them do it.” Token replies by flipping ten dollar bills out to land across Clyde's prone body.

“Make it rain.” Craig jokes as Clyde groans before attempting to catch the bills.

Token smiles and shakes his head in amusement as he puts his wallet away. “I want the change.” He tells Clyde.

Clyde stands, “What change?” He asks with a smirk. Token rolls his eyes, knowing that he probably won't see the leftover money again until the next time Clyde offers to buy them ice cream at lunch.

“If I get murdered…” Clyde says with over the top somberness, “Tell my family they sucked.”

“Okay.” Craig responds in his usual deadpan.

“You're not going to get murdered.” Token tells him, “Stop trying to scare Tweek.”

 

“I know he won't get murdered!” Tweek says with an affronted yelp. “But just in case do,” he adds, pointing to his pocket, “you want to take my taser?” He asks, unable to hide the small worry wavering in his voice.

Clyde raises an eyebrow, “Is that what's in your pocket? I just always thought you were happy to see Craig.” He says with a wink and skips into the hall before Tweek can respond.

He can hear Token muffle a laugh but doesn't look to see, his face beginning to burn. Between the blanket, added layer of Craig's jacket, central heat, his own naturally warm body temperature, and his embarrassment at how much Clyde's joke hit close to the truth he’s starting to feel unbearably warm.

“He’s just teasing, ignore him.” Craig mutters, which Tweek can't decide if it really makes him feel better or not.

Did Craig think the fact Tweek might get a hard on for him an off color joke? Or maybe he knew Tweek had a crush on him and felt sorry for him, wanted to ignore the subject altogether to save them both the embarrassment.

He takes a sip of his coffee, choking it down through the tightness of his throat.

Token changes the conversation to something about the movie but Tweek can't concentrate, excuses himself to the bathroom instead of joining the discussion.

The bathroom is a cooler temperature than the living room and Tweek grasps the cool marble of the countertop with one hand as he does his breathing exercises, twisting the knob for the cold water with his other. Splashing his face with his left hand he runs the stream over his right wrist, feeling the heat leave his cheeks as he starts to cool down. Patting his face dry with a hand towel he’s pleased to note he does feels better.

Relieving himself before he leaves he washes his hands quickly under more cold water, glad he doesn't feel like he’s close to suffocating anymore and won't have to remove the jacket to be comfortable.

He walks back into the living room right behind Clyde who proudly presents the stack of four pizzas in his arms.

“That was fast.” Token comments, glancing at the receipt taped to the personalized pizza Clyde hands him and not bothering to even try to pretend he expects any of his change back. Clyde sets his own on the floor and hands the last two over to Tweek.

“Brb with the drinks.” He says and Craig groans.

“Will you stop with the text speak?” Craig asks. “You’re starting to sound like one of the girls you're always trying to date.” He complains.

“Tbh idgaf.” Clyde says, “It’s fun.” He punctuates his declaration by blowing a raspberry at Craig, backing up out of the room once more with a poor attempt at a moonwalk.

“Idiot.” Craig calls after him.

“You love me!” Clyde shouts back from the hall.

“Regrettably.” Craig mutters, causing Token to laugh around a slice of pizza. Tweek does find it funny, really, it’s just the irrational spike of jealousy that keeps him from also laughing.

Taking his seat he lets Craig take the boxes from him and gets comfortable once more, stretching his legs out and bunching the blanket at his knees. He waits patiently as Craig opens both boxes and carefully trades two of his for two of Tweek's like they do every time they order personal pizzas.

When Craig hands him his box back he starts in on one of Craig's slices first, letting Craig catch the bottles of water Clyde throws at them in his return.

Clyde starts the movie once he’s seated back on the floor and they settle into companionable silence only broken by Clyde's odd gasp or cry in reaction to the scenes. A quarter in Tweek surprises himself by feeling full and looks down to see he’s chewing on his fifth slice.

Putting the half eaten piece back into the box he reaches for his coffee mug only to find it empty. Before he can shift in his seat to locate his water bottle Craig's hand pops into his line of sight handing it over. Taking it with a murmured thanks Tweek glances over to catch a pleased look cross Craig's face as he looks between Tweek and the half empty box.

After chugging from the bottle he places it aside next to his empty mug and closes his box, bending forward to drop it on the carpet and using a foot to nudge it against Clyde. Used to the routine of being the group's human garbage disposal Clyde reaches blindly for the box, opening and retrieving a slice from it without once tearing his eyes away from the intense fight on the screen.

Before Tweek even sits back in his chair Craig is moving, setting his own pizza box on the floor beside the couch and stealing Tweek's blanket for himself. Expecting that to be it Tweek turns his attention back to the TV only to bite back a startled gasp, arms jumping into the air in surprise as Craig carelessly drops himself over his lap.

Staring down in incredulous confusion he sits and waits for Craig to explain himself, sit back up and apologize for falling over, something, but it doesn't happen. Pulling the blanket snugly over his shoulders and resting his head on Tweek's armrest Craig squirms into a more comfortable position on his side and continues watching the movie without giving Tweek a backwards glance.

When it becomes irrefutable that Craig has no intention of moving off of him anytime soon Tweek caves and lowers his arms, carefully placing one on the armrest beside Craig's head and the other over the curve of Craig's waist. It doesn't take him that long to zone back into the movie himself but there's a certain itch at his mind that keeps him aware of Craig's weight on him.

It’s not that he feels the situation is awkward, because he doesn't, it actually feels obscenely comfortable. It's also not that he doesn't want to be in said position because he really does. He’s always enjoyed the moments Craig is more physical than usual, he just hates that the only word that comes to mind to describe it is snuggling.

They aren't snuggling, they can't be. Guys didn't just snuggle their friends. Even Clyde didn't snuggle them, he gave bear hugs and hung off of them like a needy leach at times but he never _snuggled_.

But they are snuggling, and it’s messing with Tweeks head because somewhere in the twenty minutes since Craig laid on him he’s wrapped his arms around one of Tweek's thighs like it was a stuffed bear and Tweek's found his fingers inching up the back of Craig's neck and under his hat to play with the dark hair. To top it off Craig hadn't made any motion to shrug him off or tell him to stop, though he had to be aware Tweek was messing up his precious hair.

Tweek's heart beats in his chest on double time the more he grows less concerned with the movie and more worried about reading too far into their position. Eventually Craig wiggles further against him, arms loosening around his leg to lean his back further against Tweek's chest, head pushing back into Tweek's hand causing the fingers there to slip further into his hair and yeah, okay, this was definitely some form of cuddling.

Shifting the arm around Craig's waist into a more comfortable position Tweek almost chokes on his own spit when he feels his fingers come in contact with the smooth warm skin above Craig's waistband. Keeping his coughing to a minimum he breathes through his nose and glances curiously down. The small blanket had mostly bunched up between them when Craig had leaned back, his shirt twisting out of place as well to expose a thin line of midriff.

Tweek’s pinky brushes against the material of Craig’s clothes and he scoots his other fingers there as well, off the taunting skin. Forcing himself to follow the events of the movie it’s a little bit before he realizes he’s begun idly scraping at the material under his fingers, plucking and rubbing at it in his mindless fidgeting. It’s also at the same moment that he realizes he’s not toying with the fabric of Craig’s pants but actually the elastic band of Craig’s boxer briefs that peek out from his jeans.

If he didn't feel so near panic he’d be worried about embarrassing himself with a hard on with the way he’s been so intimately touching Craig, instead he debates whether to remove his hand or not, considers whether continuing to let his fingers touch at the spot Craig’s boxer briefs meet skin while getting a thrill of sexual excitement from the action could be debated as a non consensual advance. As if retrieving mixed signals on what to do his fingers twitch, short little spastic motions as the muscles spasm.

Before he can responsibly move his hand away Craig's warm palm engulfs his fingers in a steady grip, holding them still until the twitching starts to abate. After a long five minutes Craig let's go, patting the fingers on his exposed skin soothingly as he laughs at something said by the lead character on the TV before pushing his hand up under his cheek and leaving Tweek's in place.

If Tweek uses the excuse of reacting to the different scenes over the next half hour to dig and rub his fingers against Craig's skin and through his hair he doesn't admit it when he finally pulls his hands away and Craig moves to sit up when the credits start to roll, the lights brightening around them.

Clyde sits up as well, “What time is it?” he asks through a yawn, stretching.

Token glances at his watch, “A little after eight.” He says. Clyde frowns and flops back onto the floor, rolling around for a few seconds with a groan before pushing himself up and standing.

“Awe man, I have to head home.” He says, bending over to eject the movie and stick it back into its case.

“It’s going to rain soon if it hasn’t started already.” Token says standing up himself, he reaches passed Clyde to turn the TV off before peering out the window. Nodding at his own assessment he glances back at his friends, “Yeah, it’s definitely going to storm tonight.”

Tweek frowns, not too entirely thrilled with the fact. Craig pats his shoulder knowingly, “It won’t be that bad, mostly just lots of rain.” He says and Tweek realizes he’s scrolling through the weather app on his phone.

“Either way,” Clyde says, “Lame.”

“I’ll give you a ride.” Token offers, then turning towards the couch he extends the offer, “You two want a ride as well?” He asks them. Tweek's about to tell him yes but Craig speaks up first.

“No. We’ll walk.” He says, standing and pocketing his phone. Tweek considers insisting they take the ride but a part of his brain screams at him for wanting to waste what moments he has to spend with Craig before they leave South Park. He stays quiet.

“Whatever.” Clyde says with a shrug, zipping his hoody farther up, already shuffling towards the door.

“Alright. There’s an extra umbrella by the door near our shoes.” Token tells them, double checking his wallet for his security pass and locating his keys.

“I’m gonna take a piss real quick.” Clyde announces, turning towards the bathroom. Tweek pulls the jacket tighter around himself and reaches down to collect Craig’s belongings. Passing them along he watches Craig sling the strap of his messenger bag over shoulder and then more carefully putting the strap of his camera case around his head like a necklace.

“See you guys tomorrow.” Token calls after them. Craig throws a friendly middle finger over his shoulder as he walks out while Tweek follows, waving bye.

Tweek slips on his shoes with much more ease than it took to remove them while Craig takes his time tying his laces back together properly. Exiting out the back door they circle the house, Tweek walking in pace beside Craig, the chill of the wind lapping at his cheeks helping clear his mind of the strange way his insides feel knotted up.

It’s not until they’re off the Blacks property and walking down the sidewalk that he notices.

“We forgot the umbrella.” Tweek states, feeling the drops fall on his face as he looks up at the dark grey clouds hovering above.

“Yeah.” Craig agrees, not sounding too concerned. Tweek turns back to stare at the sidewalk, going back to counting the cracks as he steps over them.

The sprinkling thickens, their arms brushing together as they walk, and Tweek lets himself indulge in the simple contact.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm [Kitschdemotic](http://kitschdemotic.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> This story is Creek, I try to leave any other friendships/relationships are left up to interpretation.  
> Shout out to [letgoofmygreggo](http://letgoofmygreggo.tumblr.com/) for helping Beta this work.
> 
>  
> 
> [See Craig's tattoo](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/b1/59/74/b15974dac5826c565dd7c58901aef356.jpg)

Chapter 6

 

By the time they’re halfway to Tweek’s house it’s acceptable to say it’s actually raining.

The drops aren’t especially cold, coming down fat but far between, and Tweek surprisingly finds he doesn’t mind. They’ve begun talking about the movie, what was funny, what was cheesy, what CGI effects could of been better done and what should have plain been replaced with realistic props for a better effect. Tweek mostly sticks to discussing the merits of the casting choices, not sure how reliable his own recollection of the specific scenes are considering how distracted he’d been while watching.

He doesn’t have to talk much anyway, as Craig seems to be willing to talk enough for the both of them, enthusiastically moving his hands as he does. Tweek lets Craig ramble, knowing that it was usually the other way around and Craig must be in a rare mood to happily chatter away. He smiles when Craig smiles, laughs at Craig's jokes, and almost doesn't realize they're at his house until Craig is turning to walk him across the lawn.

They reach the front door just as Craig finishes his thought on wanting to see a guy hero be the one to wear the “empowering” killer heels throughout an action flick for once. Tweek hums his amused approval, silence stretching between them as Tweek fishes around in his pockets for his keys.

“Here you are then.” Craig says.

“Here I am.” Tweek agrees with a laugh, reiterating the obvious, pulling his key out and moving to fit it into the lock. He twists the knob, but before he can push the door open he feels a hand at his elbow.

“Um,” Craig starts, and Tweek looks back up at him, watching Craig's mouth twitch like he wants to say something. Craig rubs one of his arms awkwardly and suddenly Tweek realizes he’s still wearing Craig’s jacket.

“Oh! Here,” he says with a start, pulling off the wet yet warm fabric and handing it over. “Sorry I almost forgot to give it back.” He apologizes with a sheepish grin, arms suddenly feeling bare without the protective added layer.

Craig just blinks at him, staring thoughtfully, his lips still twist like there's something he wants to say and Tweek tugs on his left shirt sleeve self consciously.

“Er, right,” Craig finally says, slipping the jacket on and over the straps of his bags. Zipping it up over the bulk of his camera case he continues to stare at Tweek like he’s thinking.

“What’s that?” He suddenly asks, nodding towards Tweek’s hands and for a terrifying second Tweek thinks it’s all over, that Craig has spotted his tattoo. Glancing down, instinctively moving to tug his left sleeve down he’s surprised to feel Craig scoop his right hand up, thumbing at the fading string of digits Red had wrote on him.

“Oh,” Tweek says, hoping Craig can’t feel how erratic his pulse is after the scare of being found out, “Red’s phone number.” He answers. “She gave it to me in case I had any questions about stuff.” He explains, feeling slightly less guilty at keeping it close to the truth.

Craig rubs at it a bit, the smudged ink coming off on his thumb. Letting the hand go, he looks back up and Tweek shifts his weight between his feet, Craig’s stare feeling especially scrutinizing. About to open his mouth to wish Craig a safe walk home Craig's hand darts towards him and Tweek instinctively flinches, tensing up as Craig's cold fingertips touch his temple.

He looks up at Craig startled, feels Craig's fingers lift and hover in hesitation before pressing back down to push a wet clump of hair back behind his ear. Tweek struggles to breathe, furiously blinking in an attempt to clear his mind of the hundred and one thoughts and questions suddenly cluttering it.

His lips form Craig's name but the sound doesn't leave his throat and Tweek swallows thickly. Craig is staring at him in a way he can’t decipher and Tweek can't remember if Craig had been standing this close a minute before. Craig's eyes are very blue this up close, something Tweek's always found extremely attractive, and he can’t help but stare back at them, almost missing the way Craig's tongue peeks out to wet his lips.

The thought that Craig might kiss him crosses his mind and Tweek stops breathing, a strange mixture of confused doubt and strained hope warring inside him as the seconds pass.

“Tweek, dear? Is that you?” Mrs. Tweak’s voice calls, muffled through the closed door and breaking the tension.

Craig's hand falls away and Tweek feels like he can breathe again.

He turns to crack the door open, “Yes Mom, it’s me.” He answers quickly, the quiver in his voice barely noticeable.

“Come on in before you get soaked and catch pneumonia.” She says sweetly.

He pulls away from the door with a heavy sigh. Turning back he finds Craig staring at the ground, face blank.

“I should probably go inside.” Tweek tells him, feeling unnerved by the way Craig's brow furrows as a minuscule frown flits across his expression.

“Yeah, okay.” Craig says, already backing away from the front step.

Tweek watches him for a couple seconds, before moving inside. He closes the door behind him, rushing up the steps to his room and ignoring his mom’s greeting as he passes.

Pressing up against his window he looks down at Craig standing patiently by the road. Lifting a hand from his pocket Craig waves when he sees him and Tweek stares back down, lifting his own in reply. He watches as the rain falls, turning the blue of Craig’s jacket slowly darker, and frowns. Unsure if it’s just the distance playing with his eyesight or the rain giving him the illusion, he wonders why Craig looks so sad when only minutes before he’d been in good mood, talking and laughing. Craig turns and starts his trek home and Tweek waits until he’s out of sight to move away from the window.

He wastes no time stripping down and changing into a fresh pair of boxers, scooping up his phone and slipping into the bathroom before his mom could try to ask him about his day or to do a chore, or even worse, ask him about the sudden appearance of a tattoo on him.

He locks the door behind him, fetches himself a towel from the cabinet and plugs the stopper on the tub. He spends a few minutes twisting the knobs just right to get his preferred temperature, waits until the bottom of the tub is warmed by a layer of water before he slips out of his boxers and swipes the liquid hand soap off the sink before stepping in.

He sits, knees pulled up to his chest, as the tub slowly fills around him. Placing his phone carefully on the rug next to the bath he peels up the medical tape holding the plastic snug on his wrist. The tattoo is small enough there's no real sign of healing leakage and looking at it makes his stomach do a happy little flip. Scooping up some warm water he pours it slowly over the ink before spreading a couple drops of soap between his fingers and rubbing it gently onto his wrist, tracing the shapes carefully.

After rinsing the soap and residual ointment off he turns the heat up on his water until it’s much closer to hot. He grabs his towel and dries his hands off, sinking farther into the heat of the bath he trades the towel for his phone, careful to keep it and his wrist away from the water.

There's still a bit of time before Tweek expects Craig's text so he flips to a coloring app and tries to adamantly keep his mind blank, zoning out on the mandala design he’s working on.

When his phone finally buzzes, a text notification popping up on his screen, it’s a little over ten minutes past when Craig should have texted and Tweek’s warm bath water has started to turn towards the cold side again.

In the picture Craig has clearly just got home, clothes and hair soaked, the strap to his camera case still visible around his neck. He’s sopping wet but he doesn't look harmed, just a little cold, and Tweek can't help but feel guilty for not offering to have his mom drive him the rest of the way home. Despite the guilt the picture inspires, Tweek can't help but think he still looks attractive even with his bangs clinging wetly to his forehead.

He’s just finished saving the photo when another text pops up, this one being only words.

 _Hope you're warmer and drier than me lol_ , It reads.

Tweek rolls his eyes fondly at the acronym, knowing very well Craig wasn't actually laughing out loud. He moves to type a response, but hesitates, his thumbs hovering over the keys.

He taps the button to open the camera instead, choosing to take a photo he switches to his front camera. He levels the camera at his shoulders and up, making sure the water line is visible along his chest. Drops of water cling to his neck, and the ends of his hair is visibly damp, he smirks at the camera as he clicks the capture button.

 _I'm warm but wet, 1 out of 2 isn't bad though, right?_ He types below the photo, hitting send before he chickens out.

He spends the next five minutes chewing at his nails and clenching his phone as he waits for a response. He worries that maybe he came across too flirty, that maybe he’s crossed some sort of boundary because who sent not quite nudes to their friends? That had to be weird and inappropriate and maybe snuggling was one thing but sharing pics of yourself in the bath was something else.

Just as he’s debating typing out an apology and finding a way to laugh off the picture as a big LOL JK he gets a new text. Opening it he about drops his phone in his bath water.

This time Craig is wet, but not from rain, and his chest is as equally bare as Tweek's. Also similarly to Tweek he’s in his tub, only he’s standing and it's the shower head that spraying water down on him. The way Craig's arm is stretched suggests Craig is holding his phone out of the shower to take the photo. The way the camera is angled up with Craig looking down at it, makes Tweek swallow hard, unable to not imagine being on his knees in front of Craig.

He tries to ignore those thoughts, focuses on reading the text below the picture. The bit of dark hair on Craig's chest along with the faint hair Tweek can see that marks the beginning of his happy trail makes it hard to look away.

 _Looks like we're tied_ , the text says and Tweek glances back up at the photo, taking another minute to admire what he can see of wet shirtless Craig before he saves the photo and sets his phone safely aside.

He slides further down the tub, letting the lukewarm water cover the rest of his hair. He washes up, quickly does a bit of touch up shaving to rid himself of the blonde translucent body hair he can't stand, and tries to get out before the water turns colder than the bathroom air.

When he slips into bed a little later he clutches his phone to his chest, resisting the urge to pull up that last photo again, feeling too emotionally exhausted and sexually frustrated to actually do anything more than sleep.

He does open his camera once more, snapping a quick shot of himself wrapped cozily in his nest of blankets, warm and dry, and sends it to Craig.

 _2/2 I win_ , he texts.

When his phone alerts him to a new text he’s almost asleep and has to rub the blur from his eyes before they’ll focus on the bright screen. He glances over the picture, takes in Craig's oddly messy hair, against his pillow, blanket tucked up under his chin.

 _2/2 Still a tie_. The text below it says.

He saves the picture and considers texting back insisting it’s not a tie if Tweek beat him to it, that it would mean Craig got second place. He falls asleep before he even starts typing a response, his screen timing out on him shortly after.

When he wakes up there's drool sticking his cheek to his pillowcase and he grimaces, shutting his eyes against the sun shining through his curtains.

It takes all of a minute before Tweek shoots up in bed, his mind registering that the sun shouldn't be up as bright yet if he’s just waking up. A quick glance at his alarm shows that it is indeed thirty minutes into his first class.

Getting out of bed he throws on actual pajamas before leaving his room, doing a quick sweep of the house in search of his mom and hitting the bathroom before returning to his bedroom. Flopping back against his pillows he drums his fingers against his stomach and stares at the plastic stars he’d let Craig stick to his ceiling when they were twelve.

Both his parents were at work, and if he tried to stop by there to get a ride his dad would insist he just skip for the day and work, save on the gas and earn a bit more cash.

If he hurried he could make it to the nearest public bus stop and get a ride to the stop closest to his school but then he’d still have the walk half a mile and he might be able to catch the end of third hour if he’s lucky.

He yawns and the decision to stay home and go back to sleep is an easy one to make.

The next time he wakes it’s because he feels his phone buzzing against his neck.

Wiping the sleep from his eyes and running a hand over his face to help wake himself up he checks his phone to find a small collection of mixed texts. Sitting up he stretches and opens the first one.  

 _Craig's upset_ , is all it says.

It’s from Token and Tweek frowns as he stands up to head to the bathroom, uncertain as to why such a vague text was sent to him when there's nothing he could do when he wasn't there and didn't know the context.

The next text is from Clyde and when Tweek reads it he feels even more confused.

_What a player, never really expected it from you tbh smh_

Tweek rereads the text a few more times before he gives up trying to understand what he’s talking about.  
 ****

The next two texts are from Craig, one time stamped from the morning around the time the school bus ran, wondering where Tweek was since he wasn't at the bus stop.

The other is the one that woke him up, _You better be at your house Tweak_.

It’s the spelling of his name that gives him pause, the use of his last name versus his first. He sets his phone down, trying to piece together what was going on as he uses the bathroom. Craig did sound upset, so Tokens text made sense, especially if Craig was upset at him for some reason.  He scrubs his hands a little too hard as he washes them, trying to forcibly keep his growing worry from affecting his nerves and making his hands tremble.

He couldn't fit Clyde's text into the equation and an uneasiness settled into the pit of his stomach. Glancing down at his tattoo he feels like retching, his stomach twisting in on itself violently. His phone buzzes against the countertop and he stares at it nervously, taking his time drying his hands before picking it up.

A new text from Craig. _I'm almost at your house_.

It takes multiple tries before Tweek manages to correctly type back a simple _I'm home_.

Turning back to the sink he splashes his face with cool water, running his right wrist under the tap, and forcing himself to drink a cup, desperate to calm his nerves in case he’s overreacting.

The doorbell still has him practically jumping out of his skin when it goes off, his heart pounding in his chest as he twists the faucet off and dries his hands and face, grabbing his phone and robe on his way to answer the door.

The bell rings again, and again for good measure before Tweek makes it downstairs. Thankful for the over sized sleeves that hide his wrists he opens the door just as Craig's pressing the ringer for a fourth time and almost shuts it back in his face when confronted with his glare. Instead he swallows bravely, tightens his robe protectively around himself, and steps aside to let Craig enter.

“Are you home alone?” Craig asks, not stepping inside until Tweek nods yes.

Shutting the door behind himself Craig opens his mouth but Tweek turns away, afraid of what he might say. “I need coffee.” He declares, and walks to the kitchen, unsure if he wants Craig to follow.

Craig does follow him, and he stands waiting a few feet away as Tweek sets about making his coffee. There's half a pot already brewed and still hot so he takes his time selecting a mug from the cabinet, careful not to use his left hand when reaching for it and making the same mistake Craig had.

He tries not to let his imagination run wild and presume what Craig came directly here from school to confront him about, despite the way the uneasiness in his gut tells him it’s too late, he’s been found out and it’s all over from here.

He pours his coffee slowly, debates walking passed Craig to get the cold creamer from the fridge to buy time. He doesn't get the chance, as soon as he places the pot back into the maker Craig speaks.

“I asked Red about the scrapbook.” He says and Tweek hastily sets his mug down before he drops it. “She didn't know what I was talking about,” he continues, “so I clarified I meant the gift for Mrs. Amard but she still had no idea what I meant.”

Tweek gulps nervously, unable to look away from his hands and the way they're shaking like a bandits. “Why would she not know about a gift for her favorite teacher that was her idea?” Craig presses, “Can you explain that?” He asks.

Tweek can’t bring himself to respond. Neither fight nor flight were working for him, he was currently a perfect example of the third lesser quoted fear response, freeze. His body frozen, like he might be able to avoid detection or attack if he could stay still long enough to turn invisible within his surroundings or for Craig to get bored.

“Don't have an answer? No excuses? I was hoping you would be able to clear up the confusion.” Craig says, voice sounding very emotional and very much not bored.

“Because it almost sounds like you lied.” He adds, and oh god, what, Tweek thinks, he sounds close to tears.

“Craig.” Tweek whispers, only partially aware of how his own voice cracks as he finally turns to look at him. Any excuse he had partially formed dies before he can even think to verbalize them, the unfamiliar wetness in Craig's dark lashes as he struggles to hold back angry unshed tears makes his heart jump into his throat with an aching pain.

“I guess you don't have an excuse for why Ruby told me that she saw you at the mall yesterday either?” He asks, fists clenching. “Or why Kenny told Clyde that Christophe told him you suspiciously met with Red behind the school, or why Kenny also said he saw you getting iced Coffee with Red in the food court when he went to pick Karen up,” he says, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

The action makes Tweek flinch, unable to discern if Craig crossing his arms had been a subconscious attempt to protect his emotional vulnerability or as a deliberate attempt at trying not to hit him. He hates both thoughts.

Tweek feels his hands tremble, his dry throat making swallowing hard as he struggles to tear his eyes away from the way Craig's cheeks are flushing more and more with anger.

“Did you think I wouldn't find out?” He asks, his glare narrowing dangerously, “Do you think I’m that stupid?”

 _He knows about the tattoo,_ Tweek thinks, _he knows about my feelings. He’s figured it all out and he’s angry_. Slowly Tweek's defenses splinter with every tremor that racks his spine, realizing shamefully that by being needy and getting the damn tattoo he’d brought this moment on himself. He’d known logically that eventually his feelings for Craig would be noticed, called out. Foolishly he’d hoped he’d make it to that depressing point in college where they stopped talking because of distance and time before Craig purposely disowned him as a friend over this.

“I didn't think I could tell you-” he tries to explain but the rest of his words fail him, his wobbly voice giving out and his teeth clacking from the intensity of his shaking. His heart is like a hummingbird in his chest and his feet tingle with a numbness that makes him afraid to move.

“You shouldn't have lied, I’d rather you of just been honest with me.” Craig lectures, and Tweek’s stomach twists into a tight knot. He doesn't want to hear this, can’t stomach the rejection. He feels like he’s going to puke.

“I can't believe I had to find out this way. I can’t believe you would-”

“I only got the tattoo because I didn't want to feel completely alone at college!” Tweek blurts out, his own eyes stinging as the confession hits the air.

“What?” Craig spits and Tweek feels his own eyes watering in embarrassment and shame, disappointed at himself for thinking he could ever get away with this.

“I know it’s creepy that I’m probably unhealthily dependent on you to the point of asking Red for your tattoo. It's pathetic that I have such a connection of comfort with you, that I needed it to keep a part of you for when you move on and forget me.” He admits, eyes falling to the ground and arms circling protectively around his waist.

“I hate the thought of not having you there at school with me, let alone not being in the same town, I hate it and I hate that you’re okay with it happening at all.” He rants, sounding much more broken than angry, “I hate knowing that one day you will all move on with your lives and we’ll all slowly stop talking and meeting up until one day we just become a memory from each other's childhood.” He rambles, pent up stress and emotion that had been eating at his insides like an autoimmune disorder spewing free without censors.

“I don't want to lose you, I can't lose you,” he finally cries, words uneven and jerky from his shaking, “You're the only one that's ever got me to believe in myself, to get me inspired to try and to not give up when things get hard.”

A sob escapes him, “How am I supposed to concentrate on school if I'm worried about your safety, worried that every long distance conversation we have might be our last.”  He says through choppy sporadic breaths, words almost indecipherable through his tears.

“Tweek.” Craig cuts in, not sounding pained or angry anymore but voice calm and sturdy and still a little bit sad. “Tweek,” he repeats, moving forward and wrapping his arms around the blondes violently shaking shoulders.

“Calm down before you have a full blown panic attack.” He orders and Tweek forces himself to breathe, trying to focus enough to store this moment into the bank of others like it to use when he needs them and Craig himself isn't there.

The thought hits him that this is likely the last time Craig will be willing to comfort him, pull him together with his steady voice and strong hands and it makes Tweek choke on his breath, fresh hot tears rolling down his cheeks in fat drops. Craig's arms tighten around him and he reaches out to cling back, clawing at Craig's back like he can absorb them together if he only clung on tight enough.

“Shhh, breathe. Calm down. It’s okay.” Craig whispers into his ear, “I'm sorry Tweek.” The nasal quality of Craig's voice is muffled in his hair and Tweek alikes it to as if he’s speaking through a purr.

He wants to ask Craig what he has to be sorry about when it’s himself that’s the sobbing mess, who Craig came to yell at, but his throat will do little more than allow for him to suck in air. Craig continues to talk reassuringly as Tweek attempts to pull himself together. Startling when he feels a cool touch on his left hand Tweek doesn't fight when Craig brings his hand around and pushes back his sleeve to reveal the copied ink.

“You really got it done?” Craig asks in awe when Tweek’s breathing has finally calmed, his shaking subsided into only occasional tremors and his sobs into wet hiccups. Tweek nods.

“I like it.” He says after a while. Despite all his worry and fear Tweek can't help but laugh, the sound loud and tremulous and very wet. Craig shares a soft smile with him, wiping away the wetness still clinging to Tweek's cheeks.

A calm silence spreads between them and Tweek isn’t sure why Craig’s eyes still look so shiny, so miserable.

“I’m sorry.” Craig repeats, his demeanor melting into a stiff solemnity as he apologizes, eyes cast down in apparent shame. Shaking his head Tweek tries to refuse the words, disliking the way Craig looks guilty.

“No,” He says, not understanding what Craig could have done to be sorry for and refusing to let Craig beat himself up over something that’s not his fault. He was the one who had crossed the line by getting a stalkerish tattoo, he was the one who fell in deeper love with his friend on a daily basis. A cold chill runs down his spine as Craig shifts, pulling away slightly, and suddenly he worries that maybe Craig was apologizing because he thought he’d been leading Tweek on.

“Yes, Tweek. I’m sorry.” Craig insists, hands moving to cup Tweek’s shoulders and holding him an arm's length away. Tweek wants to look away from his somber expression but can’t, fear seizing him as he expects the worse, Craig apologizing for not being able to love Tweek back, Craig telling him he’s sorry they can’t be friends anymore.

“I should’ve realized how worried you were about moving, and about starting school all alone.” Craig starts, and okay, that wasn’t what Tweek had been expecting. He holds his breath, waiting for the verbal punch to still happen.

“And I shouldn’t of believed stupid rumors or jumped to conclusions.” He says, and that doesn’t quite make as much sense to Tweek but he can’t focus on it when he’s still trying to keep a stiff upper lip for the inevitable rejection.

“You still shouldn’t have lied to me, and I’m sorry I made you think you couldn’t talk to me about these things. But they’re just college jitters, I swear. Nothing will happen like you think. I promise.” He says, “I encouraged you to apply to UCB because you built your high school credits around being an engineer, you enjoy it and you’re good at it. And you don’t want to be just any engineer but an astronautical engineer, and Boulder has the best courses for that. Of course I’m going to support you, you want to create things that go in space! How cool is that?”  He exclaims, giving Tweek a little shake to emphasis his point, his enthusiasm.

“Me and Clyde might have got scholarships exclusive to DU, but hey, I’ve done the math, okay? Denver and Boulder aren’t even an hour apart. That’s only like, 33 miles. I could drive over and visit you all the time, and I’ll want to, I will.” He says, and there’s a sincerity in his eyes that Tweek can’t argue with. “And you know Token already promised his parents he’ll fly in once a month from California to visit, and Clyde’s made him promise that he’ll swing by Denver anytime he’s in Colorado.” He continues. “Yes I’m excited by the fact I can leave all the stupid people of South Park behind, but I never once included you as one of them.” Tweek feels like crying all over again. Craig is being too nice, too reasonable. He’s starting to feel dizzy from trying to hold his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

There’s a pause as Craig tilts his head to the side, finally looking away from Tweek to stare contemplatively elsewhere. Tweek closes his eyes, ready to hear the new conditions to their friendship, the easy let down, but not wanting to see Craig’s expression when he says it.

“I love you.”

“What?” Tweek gasps, eyes flinging open in shock, completely caught off guard and definitely confused by the turn of conversation, the random admission. Craig is staring him in the eyes again.

“I love you,” He repeats, “I know we haven’t said anything like that yet, and I thought it was obvious without being said, but I think you need to hear it. I know this thing between us is still sort of unspoken and I’m fine with moving as slow as you want, whatever you’re comfortable with, but I do,” He says slowly, carefully, “Love you, I mean.”

All Tweek can do is blink, “What?” He asks again, Craig’s words not computing. _He’s talking about platonic love_ , Tweek thinks frantically, _there’s no way he’s In Love with me, or that he considers there an actual thing between us_.

Craig’s frown tightens, his grip on Tweek’s shoulders slackening in his uncertainty. “I hope I’m not messing up royally here by presuming you’re not aromantic.” He says and Tweek steps back from Craig’s touch, rubbing his hands over his face in an attempt to snap himself into reality. His heart pulses heavily in his ears as he tries to figure out why Craig might think he was aromantic and what that had to do with anything.

“I’m not aromantic.” He manages to say, the words muffled by his palms.

“Oh, okay. Good.” Craig says, stepping forward in an attempt to regain the close proximity. “I mean, I can work with you not wanting me sexually-”

“What?” Tweek asks, trying to follow along with what Craig is saying and feeling like the word is become ninety percent of his spoken vocabulary. _What is Craig talking about!?_ He thinks, _Of course I’m attracted to him like that, everyone and their mother finds him attractive!_ He can feel a new wave of mortification wash over him.

“-and not being into physical affection,” _I’m into physical affection,_ Tweek's thoughts want him to interrupt, _I’m just shy and don’t like touching strangers._

“And I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable during the movie but I guess those rumors at school made me a little jealous.”

Tweek blinks, Craig was jealous? Why?

“Which is also why when I realized you lied to me about one thing I assumed you also lied about not liking Red and that you cheated on me.”

“ _What?!_ ” Tweek squeaks, completely floored by the words coming out of Craig’s mouth.

Craig was making it sound like they were a couple, which was ludicrous because Tweek would know if there was mutual interest there. _Right?_ He wonders, heart fluttering, suddenly questioning himself.

Feeling like he’s entered a twilight zone he does a quick glance around him to make sure everything else is still the same.

“How could I cheat on you!?” He asks, voice cracking in its volume as he takes another couple steps back, bumping into the counter. He pulls at his hair, none of this was making any sense.

“I don’t know. Emotionally?” Craig replies with a helpless shrug. “It’s not like I thought you actually fooled around with her.” He says and Tweek barely restrains himself from screaming in frustration.

“Ngh! I’m not asexual or sex repulsed, or- or- whatever it is you think I am!” He shouts. “I’m gay, homoromantic and homosexual, you idiot!” And then because Craig is looking at him in a strange sort of weary disbelief that pisses him off he adds, “And I’m in love with YOU!”

Immediately he wants to stick his head in the ground like an ostrich. The absolute horror he feels from the admission creeping up his face and turning it what can only be an impressive shade of red.

“Oh.” Craig says, and Tweek can’t bring himself to look at him long enough to read the expression on his face. _He’s known all along I have feelings for him, hasn’t he? He thought I was asexual, that’s why it never bothered him_ , he worries.

“I’m sorry I came over here to accuse you of lying about Red, I should’ve known how strongly you felt about me.” Craig apologizes, fidgeting with the sides of his hat as he stares at the tiled floor like a kicked puppy.

“What if I did like Red too?” Tweek asks before he can stop himself. _It probably made him feel good about himself and so he's jealous that I might like someone else,_ he thinks bitterly. “Why should you care if I have more than one stupid crush at a time?”

Craig looks up at him clearly confused and if possible even more wounded. “Do you?” He asks, voice strangely blank for how expressive his eyes are as they bore into Tweek.

“No!” Tweek shouts.

Craig frowns. “I’d care because I don't want to share my boyfriend.” He says, eyes narrowed but voice soft. Tweek stares at him, waiting for a punchline to the joke because that’s what this had to be.

Craig sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets he continues, “Let’s not allow this to affect our relationship. Nothing has to change, we can continue to take it slow.”

Tweek stills, hands finding the edge of the counter on either side of himself and gripping hard, still trying to make sense of everything. Breathing deeply he desperately attempts to recall what all has been said, unable to shake the feeling of missing vital information. A thought hits him like a fist to the gut and he focuses his stare on a discoloration in the tile.

“You came over here to confront me because you thought I went on a date with Red?” He asks calmly, dreading the confirmation, the blood rushing out of his face as the realization of his mistake sinks in. Craig nods.

 _He hadn’t come over about the tattoo,_ he thinks, _he didn’t know about the tattoo and now he does and now he must feel sorry for me. That’s all this is._

“You don’t want to date me.” He whispers, more to himself, and when Craig makes a questioning sound he says louder, “It’s not real.”

This time it’s Craig who let’s out a confused, “What?”

“It's not real. There’s nothing romantic between us.” Tweek weakly tells him.

“There isn't?” Craig asks in disbelief, and Tweek refuses to believe he’s actually as disappointed as he sounds.

“Please leave.” Tweek blurts, ready for the conversation to be over. Bowing his head until his chin is against his chest he refuses to look back up, his legs feeling weak beneath him. His grip tightens around the counter’s edge and his fingertips feel white hot and raw from the pressure.

 _He’s trying to make me feel less embarrassed. He’s willing to pity date me, to make me feel better. He’ll take it back once he realizes he can’t fake a sexual and romantic relationship with me and he finds someone he’s actually interested in._ The thought hurts him worse than the idea of plain rejection does.

“Tweek-” Craig starts but Tweek shakes his head, his mind swarming with depressing thoughts, excuses to help all the new information make sense.

“Leave, Craig.” He demands through gritted teeth. He feels dizzy, and confused, and like he wants to scream because he doesn’t know what to believe. 

When Craig doesn’t move, Tweek tries again, softer, voice brittle to even his own ears, “Please.” He begs. Craig's simple presence feels overwhelming, he just needs time alone, room to breathe.

Craig hovers a couple seconds longer before slowly backing out of the room. Tweek waits until he hears the front door click shut before letting his legs give out, sliding to the floor in a crumpled heap. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought of this chapter :))
> 
> And feel free to chat me up on tumblr too!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm [Kitschdemotic](http://kitschdemotic.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> This story is Creek, I try to leave any other friendships/relationships are left up to interpretation.  
> Shout out to [letgoofmygreggo](http://letgoofmygreggo.tumblr.com/) for helping Beta this work.
> 
> And a shout out to [jesus-kun](http://jesus-kun.tumblr.com/) on tumblr also.
> 
> Whelp this was fun to write but I'm going to be wrapping it up now to move onto some other projects. 
> 
>  
> 
> [See Craig's tattoo](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/b1/59/74/b15974dac5826c565dd7c58901aef356.jpg)

  
Chapter 7

 

 

An indiscernible amount of time passes as Tweek stays sitting on the tile, one arm folded across his knees with his forehead pressed against the fabric, staring at the bare wrist cradled in his lap. Self doubt creeps on him as he continues to absorb what had transpired as reality.

The sound of the front door unlocking followed by his mom’s humming as she lets herself in alerts him to company but he can't bring himself to care. 

“Oh dear.” She says upon entering the room and seeing him, he doesn’t look up, just listens to her put away her keys and set down her purse. 

Mixed combinations of what had actually been said vs what he wanted to have been said play on a loop in his mind until he isn't quite sure what had actually transpired. Had Craig actually claimed to love him? Or had it been a lie or exaggeration like Tweek feared? 

His mom doesn’t say anything else as she moves around him, the familiar sound of cabinets shutting, liquid pouring, and the clinking of spoon against mug was a subtle comfort.

“Here you are, have some coffee.” She says sweetly, holding out a fresh cup along with a large envelope. His head feels heavy as he finally tears his eyes away from the tattoo and the calming effect it had as he traced the shapes with his eyes. She doesn't mention the puffy redness of his eyes, not that he’d really expected her to.

“What’s this?” He asks throatily, reaching up to take them. Sipping the hot drink he flips the envelope over to give it a once over.

**CONGRATULATIONS** , he reads.

“Mail for you, of course.” She answers, already turning back to her own coffee.

The big declarative text continues to stare up at him and he reads it over a few times before the bold stamp declaring it as being sent by the University of Colorado at Boulder catches his eye. Quickly he finds his name to confirm that it was really sent for him. Not sure if he’s ready to believe it, not sure if he wants to, he tears open the packet and pulls out it’s contents, the first paper being the important one.  
“Oh, you got a tattoo.” His mom suddenly says in soft surprise and his eyes flicker from the words on the paper to where the sleeve of his robe is still bunched around his elbow, wrist exposed. He doesn’t really feel like talking or trying to explain about it so he nods with a halfhearted shrug and tries to focus on reading.

“It’s cute.” She says in polite disinterest, crossing the room to open the fridge, he can’t tell if her tone is simply for his sake because he clearly doesn’t want to discuss it or if she really doesn’t care that he got a tattoo seemingly out of the blue.

**Dear Tweek,**

**Congratulations! I am pleased to offer you admission to the**

He stops reading.

He thinks he should feel happy, excited, relieved or something. He feels numb. 

He’s accepted into the school he chose, he no longer had to worry about not getting into University, and yet he feels unaffected by the news. 

He tries to recall the assurances Craig made, the reasons why this was a good thing and why it wasn't the end of the world. His pulse beats heavy against his temples.

“I was thinking pot roast for dinner. Though if you aren’t feeling well I could make your favorite chicken dumpling soup.” She says, blissfully unaware of the way his eyes, which had felt so itchy and dessert dry minutes before, were swelling up with fresh tears.

“I’m not hungry.” He mutters, still staring at the key words despite the tears beginning to blur his vision.

“Okay, then.” She says, “Why don’t you go try to sleep then, hmm? I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge in case you wake up hungry.” He doesn't tell her he’s slept in all day. 

Pushing himself up until he’s standing takes more effort than it should, his limbs feeling heavy and his head aching. He sets his half empty mug back on the counter. “Thanks.” He says, heading towards the stairs. 

Pausing by the dinner table on his way, he decides to drop the packet of papers on it for his parents to discover the news on their own time. He shrugs out of his robe as he enters his bedroom, letting it fall to the floor behind him. Sticking a foot out behind him to kick the door shut. He curls up in bed, forces himself to keep his eyes closed while willing sleep to take him. 

It won’t.

He’s already slept in much more than he’s used to yet he’s exhausted, deep down in his core tired, his mind too wound up for him to sleep, thoughts moving too fast. 

A faint buzz sounds and he rolls onto his back, another buzz and he side eyes his discarded robe. He doesn’t make a move to collect his phone. Looking blankly back at the ceiling he eyes the dull plastic stars, too much light in the room for them to glow like they’re meant to. He closes his eyes away from their mocking stare and rolls off of his bed. 

Opening his bedroom door he peers out cautiously, listening for his parents. He can hear his mom’s humming over the sound of dishes being washed. A quick glance at the clock says it’s barely past five so his dad shouldn’t be home yet. Just in case he sneaks down the hall and eases his parents bedroom open carefully. On her nightstand his mom’s pill bottles sit like they're waiting for him.

Edging closer he scans the different labels, shuffling through the assortment until he finds the one he’s after. 

**Take 1 tablet by mouth up to 3 times daily as needed.**

**ALPRAZOLAM 0.5 MG TABLETS**

**Generic for XANEX 0.5 MG**

**Qty: 42**

Twisting open the cap he doubts she’ll notice a couple missing. 

Palming two he quickly straightens the bottles and returns back to his room, sliding into bed. The first pill he sticks under his tongue, lets it dissolve with a bitter taste

He works on counting to a hundred, inhaling on odds, out hailing on evens. 1, 2, 3, 4... 14, 15, 16… He blinks against invading thoughts of his breakdown, 23, 24… 39, 40, 41, 42… He almost loses count when he thinks of the way Craig’s eyes had shined wet with tears. 56, 57, 58… 67, 68, 69… He bites his lip and determinedly doesn't think of how Craig had assumed he was asexual. 72, 73, 74, 75… Taunting self depreciating thoughts swirl in the back of his mind, instead he focuses on the shape of each number on his lips. 89, 90… His breathing comes easier, more naturally even, 95, 96, 97… The tornado of over analysis no longer feels like it’s stealing the air from his lungs or wrecking his conscious. 99, 100. There’s still a dull ache in his chest, a queasiness in his gut.

He swallows the second pill.

He counts over from the beginning, doesn't remember falling asleep. He is however quite aware when he wakes with a sudden start, heart pounding wildly. Adrenaline pumps through him and he rubs vigorously at his face as he stares up, tries to remember anything about his dream. The stars glowing calmly down at him from the ceiling don’t help him feel any better.

Sitting up in bed he runs fingers through his hair, the time on his bedside clock catching his attention. Three in the morning. He sighs. 

There's no going back to sleep, his body aches tensely at the over rest while mentally he’s vibrantly alert and ready to start the day.

Pushing the covers twisted around his feet away he stumbles out of bed, stretching and twisting as he digs around for a clean outfit. Once he’s dressed, shirt almost buttoned correctly, it takes him a second of searching for his binder to remember he left it in his locker. Collecting his keys, taser, mace, and wallet he glances in trepidation at his robe. Gathering his nerves he shuffles through the heap of fabric until he locates the pocket and retrieves his phone.

He has two unread text messages. A simple line of text, and a photo.

_ I got home safe tonight, thought you might still want to know that,  _ the text reads. The accompanying photo is just of Craig’s legs, stretched out on his bed spread, his shoes still on. Tweek saves it anyway.  

He can’t bring himself to consider responding. Pocketing his phone he finishes getting ready in the bathroom as quietly as he can. In the middle of brushing his teeth he has to actively avoid brushing too hard, guilt eating at him over the fact that for the first time he had forgotten to be concerned about Craig’s well being. He had willfully ignored his text alerts. He doesn’t even want to contemplate what would've happened if Craig had been texting for help instead of being considerate enough after being kicked out to still want to alleviate any concern Tweek might of had for his welfare. His stomach does a strange growl and twist, conflicted on whether it wants Tweek to eat or vomit. Rinsing his mouth out he decides to stop by the kitchen and grab a thermos travel mug of coffee. 

Outside he stands in his lawn, sipping quietly as he stares at the star littered sky. When he starts walking it’s in no particular direction, so when he passes by the theater, cuts through the playground, follows the sidewalk through the commercial stretch of town, and turns onto the road leading to Craig’s street, he’s not surprised. The path is familiar and ingrained and he almost turns back around to take the same way back home or double back a few blocks and head in the direction of Stark's pond instead. A lanky yet petite form crossing the road less than a hundred feet away gives him pause on deciding what to do. First he reaches for his taser and mace respectively, then he runs towards them as recognition of who it is dawns on him.

He barely avoids his own face full of mace when he reaches them, and to be fair he probably would've reacted the same to someone rushing him in the dark so he’s not mad, even as he picks pebbles out of his palms and coughs through the pepper spritzed air blowing towards his spot in the ditch. 

“That was a fast reaction,” Ruby says as he stands, brushing dirt and leaves off of himself, “On both our parts.” She adds proudly, soft smirk in place.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He mutters, “I thought when you first turned around you recognized me, but then you whipped out the pepper spray.” He says, walking down the road a little as he continues to cough, getting the irritating burn out of his mouth. 

She walks up beside him and says without looking at him, “I did.”

He frowns, “Wha-” he starts to ask, the brief but sharp glare she sends him cutting his words off. 

“I recognized you. I'm also mad at you,” She says curtly, “For breaking my brothers heart.”

“What?” He manages to get out, “I didn’t-”

“You did.” She says more adamantly, and though he can see the glare back on her face she speeds up her step without looking at him. Frowning he quickens his own in order to keep up with her and decides to take a drink from his coffee instead of commenting. 

“What are you doing out at 4 am anyway?” She asks after they’ve passed Jimmy’s house. 

He raises an eyebrow at her, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” 

Ruby shrugs, “I was as Karen’s.”

“Were you supposed to be at Karen’s?” He questions and she stops walking, crossing her arms defiantly.

“No, I wasn’t,” She says and suddenly she’s simultaneously pointing a finger in his chest with one hand and flipping him off with the other, “And you weren’t supposed to try breaking up with my brother over him being insecure about your relationship! You were supposed to get married and adopt cute Peruvian babies!” She shouts.

Flinching from the volume he glances nervously over at Clyde's house.  Blinking at her, trying to figure out when exactly she had developed such expectations for him and her brother, he’s unable to ignore the creeping realization that it wasn't everyone else not making sense. That maybe he was the one who wasn't understanding because he hadn’t been looking at a bigger picture, at THE bigger picture.

Clearly unsatisfied with his lack of reaction she lets out an irritated sigh, foot stomping in frustration and eyes rolling upwards, the perfect depiction of a preteen.

“You know, I liked you Tweek. You made Craig happy, less uptight and less of a dick in general. But now I kind of want to punch you in the face.” She tells him and he winces, “And the dick.” She adds. His wince turns into more of a flinch as she moves, but to his relief it’s not to attack but to walk over to the curb of her driveway.

Sitting she places her elbows on her knees, rests her chin in her palm, and angles her body away from him. He hesitates on what to do, what to say, but even as she looks away from him dismissively she also pats the spot beside her so he ends up joining her.

The ground is still a bit damp from the bad weather that started on Monday and he hopes it’s not enough to do much damage to the seat of his pants. He's just starting to wonder if they're going to sit in silence until he thinks of something to say when she sighs moodily.

“Craig came home miserable. He locked himself in his room and listened to sappy craptastic music and refused to eat dinner. He didn't even want to watch Red Racer with me or style my hair.” She says, and Tweek can hear the concern hidden within her pouty tone. 

“He wouldn't even talk to me about what was wrong.” She complains, “I had to overhear him whining on the phone about how much of an idiot he was for thinking all your flirting and affection actually meant something.” She says, “Because apparently none of it was real to you.” She adds accusingly, turning a fresh glare on him.

“It was real.” He murmurs, thinking out loud to himself more than speaking to Ruby. 

She doesn't seem to notice, or care. “If it was real then why the fuck would you tell him it wasn't?” She demands.

Shaking his head helplessly he can't help but touch the ink underneath the cuff of his sleeve as he starts to piece together everything he’d been too ignorant to connect.

“Well?” She insists, “If it was real why did you make it seem like you were only interested in him as a loyally devoted security blanket?” Her words feel like a slap against his insides, a cold claw tearing into him.

“Why claim that you didn't love him romantically back?” She presses unrelentingly. 

He had been caught up in all his own nervous worry and paranoia and emotions that he hadn’t considered the idea that there could be something more than unrequited romance. 

His lacking self confidence and low self esteem had helped keep him so self centered he hadn't realized Craig had started courting him, that he had unintentionally been rebuffing Craig's attempts at building their relationship into more.

He feels like hitting himself, feels like letting Ruby hit him.

“I didn’t know! Nhg!” He ends up screaming.

“You didn't know?” She repeats disdainfully back at him, unimpressed by his exclamation.

He breathes heavily, scrunching his eyes as he tries to figure out how to explain himself. Burning in his scalp brings his attention to the fact he’s buried a hand in his hair, pulling tautly, and wrapped painfully tight around that hands wrist is his pointer finger and thumb in an anxious grip.

“Tweek.” Ruby says, and it doesn't come out cold or angry or accusing. “Tweek, stop.” She says even softer, almost bored but gentle nonetheless. It’s so similar to the way Craig handles his average freak outs that his grips tighten momentarily before he forces his hands to drop back into his lap when her cold hands wrap around him.

“Gah,” He gasps, “Sorry.”

“Whatever.” She says, back to an attitude of disinterest. So much like her brother. 

“I didn't know he liked me,” he admits, and then “That he l-loved me.” He corrects, thinking about the way Craig had just laid that statement out there so easily, called it obvious. “I thought I was the one projecting my feelings, my longings, onto our friendship. I couldn't believe anything in case it was all my willful imagination getting carried away. I didn't want to get my hopes up.” He tries to explain.

Risking a long glance at her he’s surprised when she makes solid eye contact that makes him feel comfortable with confiding in her.

“I must of convinced myself I would be taking advantage of Craig by indulging in anything more than casual friendship, because I was scared that if I was too obvious about my feelings he would reject me.” He confesses. “So when he suddenly brought it up I thought he must of been lying, that he was only saying these things out of pity.”

“You're an idiot.” She tells him emphatically.

All he can do is nod pathetically in agreement because it’s obviously true if he’s the last to realize Craig liked him back. Not that it mattered now, he’d broken up with Craig before he had even realized they were in a sort of quasi relationship.

“I was stupid and got the same tattoo on my wrist as him,” he admits shamefully, “Because I’m needy and dependent and as a result I screwed everything up.” He says, rubbing at his forehead like he can scrub out his dissatisfactory qualities, “I just couldn't stand the thought of him leaving South Park and meeting newer better people to live a calm normal life with while I had nothing left of him after I’d been forgotten.”

“Yeah, you're an idiot,” She repeats, “How could anyone forget you?” She teases. “You really think he'll even make new friends? He’ll be lucky if he does. He’s a South Park kid too, just like the rest of us, and only we can ever really understand what we’ve all experienced while living here.” She says, “None of us are normal, even the normal he thinks he strives for is still odd to outsiders.” She tells him, like it's an amusing secret she’s only letting him in on because she’s bored.

“Maybe.” He says, “Even if he doesn't plan on abandoning me, it’s hard to believe he’d ever need me as much as I need him.”

“Of course he does.” She assures him with a yawn. “He wants to marry you and you want to have his gaybies. It’s all good,” she tells him as she stands, “You're both idiots who just need to learn communication skills.” 

Peering down her nose at him she shrugs her shoulder towards her house, “And I’m tired so I'm going to take a two hour nap before I have to get ready for school.” 

He follows her lead and stands as well. “Thanks.” He says, unsure what he’s supposed to now with his newfound enlightenment. 

“Hmm,” she hums, hands shoved in her pockets as she walks across her lawn with a roguelike stealth. “Later.” She mutters before she’s out of earshot and suddenly feeling extremely out of place for once at the Tucker's residence he pivots on his heel, clutching his coffee cup as he backtracks his steps across town.

Ruby’s never been one to sugar coat things and if she’s telling him he’s dumb, that Craig loves him, then he’s going to believe her. With a warm budding courage he thinks of what he can say, how he can apologize and get both him and Craig on the same page. Taking a final swig from his cup he sets off for a refill.

There’s an hour before his dad arrives to open shop, which means back at home he’ll be waking up soon, and Tweek would really rather avoid having to talk to him. It’s easy to decide to use his key to sneak into the store rather than going home. Entering through the back door he walks passed the inventory room and the break room, coming out behind the front counter. Not turning the main overhead light on he settles for finding his way around in the near dark.

Knowing the store like the back of his hand, and how to brew coffee like an expert, he quickly has his thermos mug full, treasuring the hot taste of bitter brew on his tongue before setting it down and straightening up his mess. With plenty of time to kill he leans against the counter behind the register and looks through his phone, playing solitaire for a bit until he somehow finds himself looking through his contacts, thumb hovering over Craig’s name, then Tokens, then Clydes. 

Setting his phone down with a sigh he reaches for a muffin instead, it’s plastic wrapping reminding him of when he first discovered Craig’s tattoo. Picking at the muffin top he searches for the chocolate chips, sipping on his coffee as he wonders if Craig will even want him to sit next to him on the bus or if he’ll be told to sit with Clyde, or maybe he’ll have to find a whole different area to sit in instead. He chews harder than necessary.

Ruby said she had to hear about their fight by eavesdropping. Tweek wishes he knew who had been on the other end of that conversation. His first guess would be Clyde, unless Clyde had sports practice or Craig wanted actual advice and not just an empathetic ear. His second guess would be Token, because there wasn’t anyone else besides himself that Craig would be so open with. The thought that Craig had been on the phone with both Clyde and Token on a 3 way call made him nervous. He wouldn’t blame them for taking Craig’s side, he just hoped that it wouldn’t be too difficult to straighten everything out, to apologize to Craig. 

Even if he had attempted to text Clyde or Token he wasn’t sure what he would say, what type of reaction he would get from them. He’s not even sure he wants to talk to them before he’s had a chance to attempt working things out with Craig. Token will be at the bus stop and he hopes he won’t receive some sort of lecture or insult, knowing the gossip that would spread through the school by the first hour if Heidi and Esther witnessed it would only make things harder. Imagining worst case scenarios he forces himself to finish the muffin with a few large bites, preparing a mental game plan for what he’ll do if it appears he has to skip lunch to avoid the awkwardness of not being welcomed at his table. 

Reaching into the little drawer below the register for his spare ear buds, planning to use them to  help avoid unwanted conversation and overhearing gossip, he see’s movement through the glass wall of the storefront. Recognizing his dad he quickly shoves the tangled ball of wire into his pocket he grabs his phone and mug, swiping the leftover muffin crumbles onto the floor before ducking through the doorway into the back of the shop, hoping his dad was too busy unlocking the door to notice him. Slipping out the back, locking up as he goes, he hears the distant jingle of bells above the front door.

Pulling up a playlist that Craig had set up for him he plucks the headphones out of his pocket and straightens them out, popping the buds in and letting the music keep him company as he drags his feet towards the bus stop.

He still arrives before anyone else, taking the bench Esther and Heidi usually commandeer for themselves. When the girls do show up they glare disgustedly at him and stand at a distance. Tweek’s music gratefully drowning out whatever they’re huddled together whispering about. When he see’s Token walking up the road he tries not to stare, tries not to even open his eyes at all. Pointedly he raises the volume of his music louder despite how the loud volume irritates his sensitive hearing. 

Tweek glances over when Token takes a seat next to him, regardless of his best efforts, just long enough to see his ever present phone in his hand, thumbs flying smoothly over the keys. Closing his eyes he lets his head fall back, doing his best impression of just being too tired, too in his own world, to be good company. Keeping his eyes shut he tries to shake off the sensation of Tokens eyes on him, refusing to open them to find out if he’s simply being paranoid or if Token is really paying attention to him. He tries to mimic Craig, keeping his best poker face up until the bus comes.

Token doesn’t try to make small talk, or force him into answering any questions which is a relief. 

Finding his usual seat with Craig empty, the entire bus void of Craig’s presence, he sits  down wearily. He turns off the music, but doesn’t remove his earbuds. Staring out the window he can hear Clyde’s snoring, can hear the loud melding chatter of the kids around him. He takes a long drink from his mug.

When they finally arrive at the school Tweek let’s the rush of students whisk him away while Token’s still trying to wake Clyde up. He doesn’t bother going by the lockers, just heads straight towards Drama. When he enters he doesn’t even pause by his seat, or say hello to Mrs.’s Amard, just goes straight to the coffee pot to top his cup off. He can feel her concerned frown on him and tries to throw her a reassuring smile. He doubts it works by the way her frown intensifies but she doesn’t try to make him talk so he scurries away to his seat. Ignoring Kenny trying to poke at his side he crosses his arms over his desk and buries his face in them, pretending to sleep as the rest of his classmates file in.

“Tweek Tweak.” He hears Mrs. Amard call, taking attendance, and he raises a hand before Kenny can have an excuse to do something obnoxious to get his attention.

“Here.” He answers, adjusting to rest his chin in his palm. Kenny leans forward like he wants to say something and Tweek tries his best to send him a warning glare. Thankfully Butters pulls Kenny back by his hood. 

“Kenny, stop bothering him and help me with this homework so I don’t get g-grounded again.” He says and just like that Kenny’s attention is diverted to the blonde on his other side.

When Mrs. Amard puts on a classic film and half the class stands to leave Tweek watches them go. He spends the majority of the hour trying to distract himself with remembering the words to every song in Singing in the Rain. It isn’t until the door opens and in walks Red with a little late slip for Mrs. Amard that he even realizes she hadn’t been in class. She shoots him a little wink as she waits for Mrs. Amard file the paper away and Tweek stares back in confusion.

The door creaks open again right as Red’s walking towards the auditorium and this time when Tweek turns to look. It’s Craig, which makes absolute zero sense and Tweek can only pick at his cuticles nervously. Craig meets his eyes as he passes him, walking straight up to Mrs. Amard’s desk. 

“Hello, Mr. Tucker. What can I do for you?” She asks, folding her hands on the desk patiently.

“Tweek needs to go to the counselor with me.” He says simply, and Mrs. Amard’s eyes go wide with concern while Tweek watches in confusion. 

“It’s rather important.” Craig adds, his tone raising in reflection to the urgency.

“Oh. Oh dear, of course,” She says, waving for Tweek to stand, “Go on now Tweek, it never hurts to go talk to the counselor.” 

Tweek gets to his feet, watching Craig head back towards the door. “On you go.” She encourages, making little shooing motions over her desk at him. Nervously chewing on his lip he grabs his coffee and follows Craig out of the room. 

Once the door shuts behind him Craig grabs his hand, tugging him down the hall. He doesn’t resist but he does tug back on the hand for Craig’s attention. “The counselor?” He asks when Craig glances over his shoulder at him, trying to piece together what’s happening.

“No.” Craig says, picking up his pace as they reach the end of the hall. Tweek is only partially surprised when Craig stops in front of the Boys bathroom and drags him in. He’s fully surprised when next he’s shoved against the bit of wall between the hand dryer and sinks, Craig’s mouth swooping down onto his before he can even let out a grunt from the impact.

It’s more of a hard press of lips then a real kiss but it’s still intimate and Tweek is suddenly very afraid to blink, afraid that if he does Craig will disappear. He really doesn’t want for this to be a delusion, to prove he’s finally snapped.

Craig stare back at him, eyes boring into Tweek’s shocked expression, as if searching, and Tweek doesn’t miss the way they flicker nervously, as if waiting for the moment Tweek decides to punch him. 

After a long stretch of silence, where Craig’s body warmth stays still pressed into him, the breath from his nose puffing against Tweek’s face, Tweek finally closes his eyes, lets his body relax between the wall and Craig. When he tilts his head, shifting his mouth slightly away from Craig’s, he can feel him ease off the pressure until they’re barely touching. 

Sucking in a steadying breath of air Tweek can’t help but try to glance down his nose at their mouths before letting his eyes fall shut and pushing forward, this time sliding their lips together in a proper kiss. Craig makes a little noise like a sigh against his mouth and Tweek smiles, happy with the reaction. A small lick against his bottom lips makes him gasp and then his tongue is suddenly sliding against Craig’s and it’s Tweeks turn to make a pleased noise as Craig licks into his mouth, biting gently, teasingly at his lips. 

It’s not Tweek’s first kiss, but it’s the first time he’s been kissed like this, and when one of Craig’s hand tangle into his hair and the other wraps around his waist he doesn’t doubt how much Craig’s wants him.  _ This is Craig, _ he realizes with a small moan.  _ This is actually Craig, Craig Tucker, who is making out with me right now, _ he thinks, unable to help an excitable shiver at the thought, _ Fuck yes. _

Digging his fingers into Craig’s shoulders he kisses back with what he hopes is an enthusiasm that helps get across how sorry he is for ever making Craig think he didn’t want this. He can feel Craig’s own enthusiasm, feel the sincerity he pours into the kiss. Craig pulls him away from the wall, pressing their bodies even closer and suddenly Tweek can also feel the hardness of Craig’s erection pressing right above his hipbone. 

“Oh.” He gasps, lips pulling away from Craig’s to do so. Not missing a beat Craig slides his wet lips along his jaw, mouthing over the shell of his ear.

“Craig?” Tweek tries to ask, squirming under the ticklish attention. “Craig.” He tries again, bracing his hands against Craig’s shoulder and applying enough pressure to get him to look up but not enough to demand he wanted Craig to completely get off him. Giving a final nuzzle to the sensitive skin below Tweek’s ear and behind his jaw he pulls back enough to meet his eyes, waiting for him to talk.

“What.. ?” Tweek asks, letting the question hang incomplete in the air, unsure of what exactly he wanted to know. What was this, what was Craig expecting, what did this mean, among a dozen other why’s and when’s and how’s were all good questions.

Craig licks his lips, shifts on his weight, his hand in Tweek’s hair stroking softly in a way that made Tweek think Craig wasn’t aware of it. “I lied about the counselor so I could get you out of class.” He says, voice deeper, huskier, than normal. 

Breathily Tweek manages to get out an answering “Oh,” the sound of arousal in Craig’s voice distracting him with an urge for more kissing and less talking. 

Craig clears his throat before he continues, “I was late to school, and I didn’t want to wait to catch you in the hall. I wanted to get you alone.” He says, glancing down at the floor almost shyly. Tweek raises an eyebrow, “Thoughtful, but I thought I told you I didn’t mind PDA, man.” He teases, and Craig rolls his eyes, an actual blush creeping up his neck.

“It- I wasn’t- my plan wasn’t to just rush you like this.” He says pulling away slightly, Tweek holds onto his shoulders to keep him from escaping. “I actually wanted to show you something,” Craig admits and Tweek watches curiously as he shrugs one arm out of his jacket, “There’s was a reason I was late.” He explains. Tweek see’s the clear plastic wrapped around his left wrist.

“Craig?” He asks curiously even as he peers closer to get a better view, his hand falling from Craig’s shoulder to tentatively touch his hand. Craig doesn’t answer him right away, bringing the wrapped wrist up between them he stretches the plastic taut so Tweek can better make out all the dark lines.

On the side of Craig’s wrist below his thumb, under the plastic and still looking red from being freshly inked, is a togo coffee cup in Craig’s familiar doodle style, no bigger than Saturn.

“A coffee cup.” He states, more than asks. Craig nods. 

“I asked Red a favor,” Craig tells him, “I thought if I got a tattoo for similar reasons that you got yours, I could prove to you how much I never want to forget you. That I want to have a permanent reminder of you. That this is real, that I do, you know, love you.”

“Why-” He starts to ask but Craig swoops down to peck an interrupting kiss on his mouth before grabbing Tweeks hands and playing with his fingers. 

“I was outside,” He starts and Tweek has a feeling he knows where this is going, “I was about to go looking for Ruby when I realized she hadn’t come home yet and her phone was off, I was between mine and Clydes house when I heard her yelling and realized she was yelling at you so I ducked in the bushes and heard you two talking.” He says and Tweek feels heat creep over his face as he flushes in embarrassment. “I didn’t interrupt because I wanted to hear you explain yourself more than Ruby did.” Craig explains, holding tighter to Tweeks fingers when they twitch.

“I’m sorry,” Tweek says, not wanting to look up and meet Craig’s eyes, “I’m sorry for being an idiot.”

Craig shrugs, “I was an idiot too,” He says, “I should've realized sooner you needed evidence, real affirmation, to feel secure about how I felt.” He shrugs again and let’s Tweek rearrange their hands so he can cradle the tattooed wrist in his palms so he can examine it further.

“Why not get it on your other wrist though, so it doesn't take away from your space tattoo?” Tweek blurts out the question before he realizes it. 

“What are you talking about?” Craig asks, “It doesn’t mess up my space doodle, it’s a part of it.” At Tweek’s confused stare he continues, “The coffee cup is a symbol for you. And you're a part of my universe, my favorite thing in the whole galaxy, and I wanted to show that to you in a way you might believe me.” Silence stretches between them and Tweek tries to tell himself it would be sappy and stupid to cry over Craig’s words.

“I like it.” Tweek tells him in a small voice after he’s fought back the tickling in his nose that forewarns tears. Craig takes Tweek’s hands in his own again, guiding them around his waist and waits for Tweek to embrace him before wrapping his arms around Tweek’s shoulders.

“Good,” He says, “The fucker cost me two whole hundred dollars.” Tweek lets out a muffled laugh into Craig’s shirt. 

“Really?” He asks and feels the movement of Craig nodding.

“Yeah, had to pay Red enough to wake up at 5 AM and get me into the studio before it was even open so I could get it done right away. She wasn’t too happy about it and the bill showed.” He explains. “It would've only cost sixty if I had waited until after school.” He adds and Tweek pulls back to look at him in a mixture of shocked horror. 

“Agh! Why didn’t you just wait then!?” He shouts, thinking of how much money Craig could of saved.

“I needed to convince you,” Craigs says with a shrug, “I wanted to do that as soon as I could and this is how I wanted to do it.” 

Tweek sighs, not wanting to argue with the logic because it did work and they were together. He buries his face back into Craig’s shirt, hiding his smile.

“We’re together now, right?” He asks, just to be sure, just to hear it. Craig’s hold tightens on him and he can feel Craig’s lips press into his temple. 

“Duh.” He says, “I don’t get meaningful tattoos for people who aren’t my boyfriend.” He says, a hint of teasing in his voice. Tweek smiles, hums contentedly and pulls back, tilting his chin up inquiringly for a kiss. Like some sort of cliche redneck version of fireworks or church bells, right when they kiss the bell signaling the end of class erupts. Through the wall they can hear the sound of classes letting out and aren’t surprised when the bathroom door crashes obnoxiously open. Neither of them break their kiss, Tweek licking up into Craig’s mouth as the sound of students rushing the hall becomes momentarily louder before the door slams shut.

“Faggots.” Tweek hears muttered and peeks out one eye to see Cartman walking passed them to the urinals. He can feel one of Craig’s arms lift to flip Cartman off.

“Ay! Don’t flip me off!” Eric yells at them, “I should flip you off, for getting fag germs everywhere. Fuckin’ gross.” He complains, “No wonder everyone’s so gay.” He doesn’t seem perturbed by them enough not to whip out his dick though and Tweek pulls away in disgust, the mood ruined by the sound of pissing. 

“Ugh! If anyone’s fucking gross it’s you Cartman!” Tweek shouts in annoyance, grabbing Craig’s hand and pulling him out of the room before Craig can even finish shrugging his jacket sleeve back on. He doesn’t pause in pace until they reach their lockers, where he slows to a stop and finally drops Craig’s hand. He sighs, glancing around at the few last minute stragglers still walking the halls, he really doesn’t want to go to class. Looking up at Craig he takes in his rumpled image, hat askew, jacket unzipped and rumpled, the slightest flush to his cheeks. He really doesn’t want to go to class, or even be at school.

As if reading Tweek’s mind Craig retakes his hand. “Come on.” He says, and Tweek doesn’t question when Craig turns on his heel and leads them back towards the auditorium and through the same door Tweek had used the other day.

Circling the building they walk through the students parking until Tweek notices Craig’s car.

“You drove your car to school?” He asks, surprised he was able to go around his dad. 

“I left at five this morning before anyone else was up to meet Red at the mall.” He explains, unlocking the doors. 

“Are you going to get in trouble?” Tweek asks as he climbs into the passenger seat. Craig rolls his eyes and puts his key into the ignition. 

“What’s my dad going to do? Ground me?” He asks with a snort, “For, what, the month until graduation? The whole summer before I move to Denver?” He smirks at the obscurity of the though but Tweek frowns. 

Staring out the windshield as Craig starts the car he means for the conversation to drop. Craig reaches across the console to take his hand, letting him Tweek looks over and can tell Craig had sensed his shift in mood.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He says, voice soft. Tweek nods but Craig shakes his head, “Really,” he insists, “I won't get in trouble.” Tweek gives his hand a squeeze and nods again.

“I know.” He says and he does, the thought of Craig getting in trouble wasn't what bothered him. 

“Tweek?” He asks, and Tweek tries to smile, giving a halfhearted shrug. 

“It's nothing.” He says. He can tell Craig doesn't buy it.

“You're still worried about college.” Craig says and it’s not a question so Tweek doesn't answer, just looks down at his lap.

“I'm not just leaving you, you're leaving too. Technically we’ll be leaving South Park together.” Craig says, trying to sound excited in a way that might make Tweek see it as something positive. All it does is make the familiar bitterness inch over him. He rolls his eyes, an annoyed huff escaping him.

“Why are you so happy about that? About moving to some strange new place where we’ll be in different towns?” He demands, glaring at Craig, not wanting to keep his frustrations bottled anymore. 

Craig’s expression falls, a somber contemplative look taking over his face as they hold eye contact and Tweek can feel his own surge of anger deflating. The sound of the engine idling fills the silence stretching between them. 

Finally Craig tugs gently on Tweek's hand, “Outside of South Park we can be together how we want, not how South Park wants.” He says. “That’s why I'm happy, why I'm looking forward to moving, even if we have to live over thirty miles apart. Because I can visit you, and hold your hand, and kiss you, and no one will think we’re doing it for any other reason than we want to because we love each other.”

Tweek swallows thickly, unable to find words to explain that was something he needed to hear. Craig continues, “I know it’ll suck for the first year as we adjust but Clyde's dad wants to keep him from living on campus so he’s probably going to help us afford an apartment until we can finds jobs. And if it’s not still not close enough I’ll find a way to fix it.”

“Promise?” Tweek asks, his voice cracking over the word. Craig lets go of his hand to run his fingers over Tweek's hair soothingly, pulling his head closer to land a kiss on the crown of his head.

“Of course I promise.” He mumbles into his hair and Tweek smiles

“Good.” He says as Craig pulls away, putting the car in reverse and backing out of the parking spot.

Feeling at peace he stares out the window, the familiar smell of the leather seats, Craig's optimistic words, and the weight lifted off his shoulders making him feel content and bubbly. He can’t help but hum, one of his mother's frequent tunes escaping him, only broken by his own little giggles as he tries to comprehend how this is all so real when twenty four hours ago he'd been certain this had never been a possibility worthy of even humoring himself with.

“What?” Craig asks, lips upturned in amusement at Tweek’s behavior.

“I'm just sooo happy.” Tweek says through his grin, making Craig laugh.

Halfway down the road he feels Craig take his hand again, the tiny gesture making his smile twitch bigger. He stares down at their joined hands warmly before glancing over at Craig's left hand on the wheel.

Clear plastic peeks out from the sleeve of Craig's jacket. From the angle Tweek can't make out any of the shapes but he can see the black lines the plastic is obscuring and feels a giddy warmth in his chest, knowing that the lines make up a togo coffee cup. He has an urge to reach out and touch it but refrains, he plays with the fingers of Craig's right hand instead.

  
  


-End-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not completely over, there's a bonus epilogue chapter next.
> 
> Also: [Craig's New Tattoo](https://36.media.tumblr.com/4a7a61730cb6e3fb516921bfd8bbdd7b/tumblr_nzqd4y94dS1u2kcpao1_250.jpg)


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm [Kitschdemotic](http://kitschdemotic.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> In this chapter I do leave it a bit more open to interpretation on possible Tyde developments but it focuses on the Creek, of course.  
> [See Craig's tattoo](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/b1/59/74/b15974dac5826c565dd7c58901aef356.jpg)  
> [See Craig's 2nd tattoo](https://36.media.tumblr.com/4a7a61730cb6e3fb516921bfd8bbdd7b/tumblr_nzqd4y94dS1u2kcpao1_250.jpg)

  
  


“Is that supposed to be a spaceship?”

Tweek glares up, and Clyde raises his hands defensively, backing away. “I was just asking. It's a very nice-er, spaceship?” He says, the questioning lilt earning a remote thrown at him. Craig laughs.

“Hey! No need to mess up all my hard work.” Clyde exclaims, catching the remote with ease and moving around the couch to set it nicely back on the coffee table.

“Putting your dirty mags under the bathroom sink, making your bed, and piling all the dirty clothes into the laundry room does not count as cleaning.”

“I also straightened up the living room and kitchen!” Clyde tries defending himself, arms crossing as he pouts.

“You loaded the dishwasher for once and found the remote.” Tweek mutters, not looking up from where he was laying on top of Craig on the couch, fine point sharpie in hand as he doodled away on Craig's wrist.

“At least I'm attempting to make the place presentable for Token’s stay!” He complains, and Tweek rolls his eyes, giving up his attempt to transform the cup tattoo into a UFO and moving on to add more stars.

“It’s just Token.” Craig mutters.

“Just Token?” Clyde repeats, face dropping into a flat stare as he moves to the small three foot tree sitting in the corner by the TV.

“How rude.” Clyde says under his breath, busying himself with straightening the small assortment of gathered gifts. “Too absorbed with having Tweek for a week straight to even care about your other friend. Humph.” He continues, muttering to himself.

“You weren't this anxious for his last visit.” Craig points out, not taking offense to Clyde's words.

“Pfft! It’s Christmas! Can't a guy be excited to be surrounded by his best friends for the holiday?”

“Technically Christmas is still five days away.” Tweek says, glancing briefly up from the beginnings of the tiny space explorer he’s drawing to check the calendar on the wall for his accuracy. “And we’re all driving down to South Park together on the twenty third to see our families for the actual holiday, so…” He says, trailing off.

“So rude today.” Clyde says, hands on his hips as he slowly shakes his head in disappointment at the two of them lazing about together.

“Be jolly! Sing!” He demands throwing his arms up, “Let the Christmas spirit come inside of you! Embrace it!”

“Ew.” Craig comments, causing Tweek to stifle a laugh.

Ignoring them Clyde continues, waving his arms enthusiastically at the different cheesy decorations he’d put up, “Just think of all the candy, and delicious food! The presents!”

“Oh. Presents.” Craig says, like he’d just realized something obvious. Tweek laughs.

“Of course man,” He says and caps his sharpie before setting it on the coffee table, “you can't really blame him though? Token always gives the best presents. We really should be excited too.”

As if summoning him there's a sudden knock on the door and Clyde bounces on the balls of his feet before rushing the door.

“Token!” He exclaims, swinging the door open and almost knocking the poor man over with the way he jumps into his arms like an excited kid.

“I was right to set my bags down.” Token laughs, waiting until Clyde's done being clingy before attempting to gather up his things.

When they both make it through the door Craig and Tweek untangle themselves, standing up to greet their friend.

“You changed your hair.” Craig comments as he gives Token a one armed hug, helping take a couple of the bags from him.

“Just haven't had time to get it cut.” He replies, rubbing his free hand over it’s unusual length.

“You got more ink?” Token asks, catching sight of the busyness of Craig's wrist, “Or did Tweek get bored again?”

“Tweek.” Craig answers with a smirk.

“Guilty.” Tweek says, taking the obvious bags of presents away from Craig before Clyde can and sets it by the tree.

“I'm so glad you're finally here. These two have been driving me bonkers.” Clyde chimes in, taking the bags Token still carried and throwing them beside the couch.

“I doubt they've been that bad.” Token says as he takes a seat in Clyde's usual recliner.

Clyde throws himself dramatically backwards over the arm of the couch, his legs dangling off the edge. “But they are!” He swears, “I love them but I can only hang out with them so much before I become a third wheel.” He complains.

Craig rolls his eyes and sits next to Clyde's head. “If you didn't try to crash every date we go on-”

“I don't!” Clyde interrupts to deny.

Craig flicks Clyde in the nose before finishing his thought. “-it wouldn't seem like all we do are couple things.”

Token laughs while Clyde pouts. “I don't!” He reasserts his denial. “At least not anymore.” He mumbles.

“Really? I haven't noticed.” Craig says with a dry undertone.

“I have.” Tweek says as he pushes Clyde's legs off the arm of the couch so he can sit on it.

“Good.” Clyde says as he sits up properly. “You were starting to look like you might shank me if I tagged along one time too many.”

Craig raises an amused eyebrow at Tweek when he shrugs guiltily and pats Clyde sympathetically on the head.

“We have been staying in a lot more recently,” Tweek concedes, “which doesn't give him much choice but to deal with our moments of domesticity.” Clyde ignores them in favor of directing his attention to Token.

“The last time I went with Craig to go pick Tweek up from his dorm,” Clyde tells him, “Not only did Tweek look like he wanted to shank me for even being there but when we got back we went out to eat and a group of girls from school saw us and told me how cute the three of us were together.”

“I had a bad week.” Tweek mutters under his breath in defense, crossing his arms in a petulant manner more reminiscent of Clyde's posture when being dramatic.

“They thought you were cute. Cool. And?” Token prompts, obviously not seeing what Clyde was beginning to look so detrimentally upset about.

Sighing in frustration Clyde sits up in his seat, gesturing with his hands. “They thought _we_ were cute,” he stresses, “not _me_ , but _us_ as a _threesome_.”

Token continues to blink at him.

“They thought we were a cute out and proud polyamorous group!” Clyde exclaims in frustrated despair as Craig tries not to laugh, a snort escaping him when Tweek reaches across Clyde to push him.

“To be fair if you didn’t climb all over us all the time flashing puppy dog eyes-” Craig begins through his escaping laughter.

“And you didn’t tag along to most of our dates.” Tweek cuts in.

“Then they wouldn’t have assumed that.” Craig finishes. Token face palms, his muffled laughter slipping through his fingers at the absurdity only making Craig more amused.

“I thought you said you had a girlfriend?” Token asks when he looks back up. For some reason this makes Craig snort again and even Tweek lets out a small laugh despite trying not to mock Clyde’s pain.

“I did.” Clyde whines, shoving his face into his hands. “She broke up with me after she saw me sharing an ice cream with Craig while Tweek-”

Craig shoves Clyde’s face to interrupt him, “She thought she caught Tweek giving him a blow job.” He says bluntly and Token just looks between them incredulously. Tweek closes his eyes slowly and shakes his head softly, a light blush dusting his cheeks while Clyde pushes away Craig’s hand, a deep flush making his face glow festively.

“I had dropped my phone and went under the table to find it right before she showed up,” Tweek explains calmly, “which was when they started sharing the last of my ice cream I offered.”

“And Clyde was moaning like an idiot about how good it was.” Craig adds with a grin.

“Wow.” Token comments.

“And of course right as she walked over Clyde finishes off the food and says something like,” Craig pauses to clear his throat and do his best moaning Clyde impersonation, “That was amazing! I’ve never tried that before but I really loved it, thanks Tweek!” Craig breaks down laughing and Clyde shoves him.

“Of course that was right when I popped out from under the table between them.” Tweek concludes. Clyde groans in embarrassment.

“She dumped me on the spot. I didn’t even get the chance to explain.” He pouts. “And now it seems none of the girls take my flirting seriously, they all think I’m just flirty gay friend material,” He complains, stretching forward in his seat to reach a handful of Token’s shirt, “When really I’m perfect boyfriend material!” He whines.

Smiling down at him sympathetically Token covers Clyde’s hand with his own, casually prying the fingers from his shirt. “I know,” He says reassuringly, “I know you are.”

“What are you going to do when Tweek moves off campus over the summer and into here?” Craig asks and Tweek smiles happily to himself at the mention of their plans. Clyde willingly lets go of Token to glare petulantly back and forth between Craig and Tweek.

Clyde pretends to think about it, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully, “You don’t think I can get pity dates if I go along with it and pretend you guys dumped me can I?”

Craig shakes his head, “They’ll just assume you’re plain gay, discrediting the fact you’ve dated girls, and try to get you a new boyfriend to make you feel better and to make us jealous.” Tweek nods in agreement and Clyde’s nose wrinkles in a childish display of disgust before he perks up with a lecherous grin.

“Maybe I could get two girlfriends at once if they think I’m polyamorous.”

“Despite you having to actually be polyamorous for that to work, they'll still likely assume you're secretly gay.” Tweek points out as Craig thumps Clyde on the back of his head.

“What if I am?” Clyde argues, raising his chin in cocky defiance.

"Gay?" Tweek asks, eyebrow lifting up in surprise. Clyde shakes his head in exasperation. 

"No! Polyamorous." He corrects.

“Are you?” Token asks him curiously. Clyde relaxes in his seat, pausing to takes a couple seconds to actually consider it.

“Probably not.” He admits with a shrug.

“You should just continue being yourself.” Token suggests, “Stop trying so hard to chase love and let it find you.”

Clyde sighs and nods grudgingly at the advice. “Maybe.” He concedes.

A high ringing goes off and they collectively look around for the sound in mild confusion before Clyde perks up in recognition. “The cookies!” He declares happily, bouncing off the couch and reaching over to tug on Tokens sleeve. “I made your favorite kind! Come see.” He says, urging Token to follow him into the kitchen.

When the two are around the corner Tweek hums happily to himself and leans into a fall, spreading out across the length of the couch, his head landing soundly on Craig’s thigh.

“This is great.” Tweek says earnestly, looking up at Craig as the other man’s hand find its way into his hair. He blinks slowly up at him, feeling sleepy and content as Craig rubs at his scalp in soothing circles.

“What’s great?” Craig asks.

“This. Everything. Life.” Tweek tries explaining, he gives a weak shrug, “I don’t know man, I’m just happy. It’s great.”

The corner of Craig's lip tilts up in his customary smile. “I told you it would be.” He says.

“Merry Christmas!” Clyde suddenly hollers from the doorway and Tweek looks up to see him walking over, balancing plates of cookies atop mugs of milk. Behind him Token is doing the same, but looking far more careful.

“I tried to tell him we could make two trips but he insisted.” Token says apologetically, as if he was a parent who let the kid get his way.

“Merry Christmas!” Clyde repeats as he sets their mugs and plates on the coffee table, ignoring Token’s comment and the chiding “tsk tsk” Tweek jokingly directs at them.

“It’s not Christmas yet.” Craig points out. Clyde sticks his tongue out.

Token places his armful down as well and steps forward to wrap an arm around Clyde’s shoulder in support. “Merry early Christmas then!” He says and Clyde beams.

“Merry early Christmas!” Clyde declares, his happiness renewed. Tweek laughs, snuggling further against Craig.

“Merry early Christmas.” He chimes in reply, and reaches for a cookie. Craig tries to steal it from him but he doesn’t let him, shoving the whole thing into his mouth and chewing.

“These are actually really good.” Tweek says once he’s swallowed his mouthful.

“I know.” Clyde says in smug satisfaction and smacks Craig’s hand when he tries to pick one up for himself.

“Hey!” Craig complains, attempting once more to grab for one only to be blocked. He narrows his eyes, “What?” He asks waspishly.

“Merry…” Clyde prompts, trailing off deliberately. Token and Tweek stare up at Craig expectantly. Craig stares back.

“Merry early Christmas.” Craig sighs, caving under their stubbornly patient gazes.

Clyde backs off smiling, letting Craig grab his prize. Token sits back down in the recliner and Clyde follows him.

“So…” Clyde says, sitting on the arm of Tokens chair and bouncing in place. “Do we have to wait to open presents or…?”

Craig shares an amused look with Tweek as Token laughs.

“I mean, we are all independent adults here.” Clyde says, “No one can really stop us from saying Santa came early.” He tries to reason.

“Santa only delivers to good boys and girls.” Token tells him. Clyde bats his lashes and leans further into Tokens space.

“What about Token?” He asks sweetly, “Does he deliver for bad Clyde’s?” 

Token pretends to be absorbed in inspecting the cookie in his hand. “Maybe.” He says, drawing out the word before smiling around a bite of cookie.

Tweek sits up a bit, tilts his head in consideration. “Are they flirting?” He whispers just loud enough for Craig to hear.

“Yeah.” Craig whispers back.

Tweek tilts his head the other way. “Do they know it?” He asks quietly. He can feel Craig shrug.

“Probably not.” Craig says, voice bland and just as hushed.

Tweek hums thoughtfully. “Huh.” He says, storing the moment away for later inspection.

Reaching for his mug of milk he watches as Clyde jumps up to rush towards the presents, having scored Tokens acquiescence.

This was nothing like how Tweek imagined it would be after starting college and moving away from home. It’s better.

Laying against Craig, watching Clyde dig into a pile of presents while Craig and Token munched on delicious home baked cookies, he felt at home.

Craig adjusts his arm over Tweek, his fingers rubbing the exposed skin at the nape of his neck in a subconscious caress. Letting out a silent sigh of contentment Tweek reaches for a cookie. The black ink on his wrist peeks out of his sleeve and he smiles, quickly snagging a cookie he brings his wrist up to his face.

Tugging the sleeve further down he takes in the oh so familiar tattoo, the sharp black lines of the stars and the curve of Saturn. It’s come in handy for being a calming anchor when he’s needed one, but he hasn't had to rely on it like he thought he would when he'd decided to get it done. He’s still just as happy with it as the day he got it, still likes it just as much.

He takes a bite of cookie and happily hums one of his mom's Christmas tunes to himself as he chews. Craig’s fingers against the nape of his neck tap along.

 

-fin-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is! I had fun writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it. Feel free to talk to me on my tumblr! 
> 
> In order to get this chapter up before Christmas I forwent getting it beta'd, so sorry of there's obvious mistakes.
> 
> I also have plans for writing a companion piece to this that follows Craig's side of things. I'm not sure how long it'll be though. So keep an eye out for it!

**Author's Note:**

> [See Craig's tattoo](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/b1/59/74/b15974dac5826c565dd7c58901aef356.jpg)


End file.
